


Into the Shadows

by iArgent



Series: Downed Twice Upped Thrice [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Asexual Character, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, F/M, Full Origins And Awakening, M/F, M/M, M/M/M, Multi, Played fast and loose with a few orientations for my own desire, Retelling, Sex, Surragacy, Two - Freeform, Violence, Well - Freeform, a hodgepodge of personalities that shouldn't have been mixed, counting Alistair, f/f - Freeform, i don't play by canon rules I guess, implied/referenced past sexual assault, may add more later, multiple origin, not now - Freeform, only one warden, pairings I like yet they don't exist anywhere, threesome relationships, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-18 05:19:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3557507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iArgent/pseuds/iArgent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niro wasn't planning on being thrown out of the circle. He didn't regret it, mind you. But it wasn't planned. Things look up with the addition of a handsome Not Templar and a sarcastic witch. But really, there's a world to save, and apparently he needs to do it all one person at a bloody time. New and old faces pop up, and maybe there's more to family than blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loss

Niro had started the day with a headache. He had rolled out of bed in the Enchanters corridor, seeing double with his tongue dry and heavy. He'd nearly killed himself tripping over a full basin of water left for him.

Really the bath was the best part. He'd attempted to make eye contact with himself in the mirror provided, had seen white hair plastered to his head with water (normal) pale skin fever bright (shit) and three big blue eyes (not normal) and called for an examination.

Thankfully it hadn't been his colleague Wynne, but a young Mage Anders. He knew the man. Liked him, when he wasn't trying to get in his pants. Robes. Leggings. It wasn't that he was averse, but he liked Anders. If they got too close, suddenly his new position was threatened, Anders was at risk of transfer. Simply put, it couldn't happen. Not in the damn circle.

He must have looked like something a demon had chewed a bit, because there was no flirting. 

"Makers breath! Are you alright man?" 

Niro sighed. "That's why you're here, I'm to meet Irving within the hour for something or other."

Anders merely snorted, setting to work on his head. He could never keep quiet though "Something interesting happening?" He questioned innocently.

Niro groaned "I don't get on with Irving. Nor Wynne. Perhaps one of them let something slip to the Amell girl, the new favorite. She did just pass her Harrowing. Maybe she got a hint. She's inner circle for now."

Anders nodded along, prodding at pressure points and soothing what Niro now found to be a full body ache. "All the books on Blood Magic are gone." He mentioned offhandedly.

His turn was sharp and sent a jolt of pain through his neck and head. "Why? And how do you know?"

Anders shushed him, turning his head back straight and repairing the damage. "You're what, nineteen, twenty winters?" He tutted "Your body feels like it's in its thirties." He paused, winking "And you still look your age. I don't get it." 

Niro snorted, even as Anders ran a comb through overlong hair. "I'm not an invalid. I'm also awaiting answers."

Anders hummed. "I like your hair. So long and silky. However, I want to know how you avoid sitting on it, elf secret"?

Niro hissed out an exasperated breath.

"Oh fine. Spoilsport." Anders grumbled, long sweeping stokes of the brush not faltering. "I was in the library today, and noticed a shelf empty. Well, after all of my escape attempts the Templars are cracking down, so I asked Lilith, who knew nothing about it. Poor things been all stressed for weeks, now the day after her Harrowing I'm asking stupid questions. She's a sweet girl. I hope she's got a better future than me." He sighed wistfully.

Before Niro could interject that Anders had a bright future, thank you very much. With his skill and heart. Anders had begun a soft braid by one temple.

"What are you doing?"

Anders grinned, caught. "You always pin it back, this way you can have it flowy and out of your face. I'll admit, it's a fantasy." He teased "seriously though, I win a betting pool if you wear it down." 

Niro huffed. "Oh fine. Now about the books?"

Anders startled before grinning widely. That damn smile got him into more beds and more trouble...

"So I went to her best friend. You know Jowan. You tried to help with his primal magic. He failed miserably."

Niro shifted abruptly. "Is that sweet talk for 'He lit you on fire, inducing a full breakdown and a stint in the healing ward with Wynne hovering over me for days trying to work out the fear of fire'? Because he didn't completely fail. He just made me a laughingstock."

Anders rapped him lightly on his healed head, braiding a bit of the next side. "So Jowan said he'd heard rumors of a blood Mage, which would explain them being removed from sight." He finished. "And don't you start on the proper useage of blood magic either." He scolded. "Gregoir likes you, you help mages here, don't go getting yourself accused of being a maleficar bevause you think blood magic isn't evil."

Niro exhaled a long suffering sigh. "Very well. I should be off though. You as well. I hear the apprentices are starting fire today. You'll be in the infirmary with dear Wynne, yes?"

"You're evil. Yes, I'm with her majesty today. Oh talk to our great lord 'totally not trying to mess with your head' hm? Maybe see you at dinner?"

Niro nodded faintly. "It would be nice, to see Lilith and Jowan again for personal time." He caught Anders eye quickly. "Perhaps I'll see if Karl wishes to join. He has a good sense of humor."

Anders paled a bit "how long...does anybody?"

"I don't know a thing. And I'll say the same damn thing under torture my friend, you know that. I just thought, he never seems to talk, maybe he would like an invitation." He tilted his head "if anybody knows, they won't say a word. If they do....well...let's hope nobody feels the need to cross me."

Anders looked down "thanks. I'll try and be more discreet."

Niro snorted. "I think it's nice. I haven't seen the sun in years but you two together...it's a good thing. Joy where we usually don't get it." He paused "Everyone knows I'm always painting in my chambers. If you two wish to come up on occasion, it wouldn't be too strange. A few moments here and there won't kill us." He smiled. "You're one of my only friends. I'll try and keep you happy."

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

His spirits higher, and pain faded, he made his way to Irvings office the floor below. Careful not to trip over long black robes. Careful not to stub bare toes on stone. Really, the robes, while comfortable, and fashionable, were inconvenient, and also a bit warm. And shoes....shoes just didn't feel right.

He almost ran into Lilith Amell at the bottom of the stairs. 

"I'm sorry!" She squeaked "I'm just a bit off from last night and I took the wrong way." She stammered out, near tears.

She brought dainty hands up to cover her eyes, creamy skin blotchy with red as she let a few tears fall.

It was sad. It was alarming. It was normal.

Niro hooked an arm around her waist, the bright violet of her new robes matching her usual lip paint, her eyes, the strange tattoo on her face, one from an old arcane symbol, not anything normal.

He saw her hair, usually falling down her back, not as long as his, and face wasn't styled, one or two long perfect nails chewed down to the quick. She's tried to apply her cosmetics to cover the grey of her face today, it's smeared.

"Let's get you to bed. A bath and some sleep will help. I hear you did well in your Harrowing." He tried, hoping for a smile. Instead he danced out of the way as she threw up. 

"It was terrible. And I can't say anything, and I feel so sick." She snuffled "I'm so sorry I threw up. I can clean it, I can-"

"We're washing your teeth and putting you to bed. That amount of lyrium would make anybody sick. And I've done my harrowing, you can talk to me." He said firmly, guiding her around the puddle of her own sick, and leading her back to her new rooms.

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

"You're late." Irving grated out. He didn't look mad. He looked disappointed. Which in turn made Niro angry. He beat it down. 

"Yes, my apologies, I took Ill, and then I ran into Lilith. Which I assume you heard, as she almost vomited into your doorway. I helped her to her room." He relayed calmly.

There is a man he hasn't noticed, off to the side. Dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes. He hasn't seen anybody new in a great while. He only noticed because he spoke. "You're accent, ser. Are you from one of the Orlesian circles? It is faint but still identifiable."

"No, Messere. I am from Orlais. But not since age six have I been anywhere near an Orlesian. The accent remains, but less."

"My apologies, then." The human says with a nod of his head.

"It's nothing. A curiosity, you needn't feel bad for asking."

Niro looked back to Irving for a moment before he heard the clang of armor.

"There you are." Gregoir sighed, though with no small amount of affection. "This is Duncan. The Commander of Fereldens Grey Wardens." He announced, gesturing to the man Niro had just spoken too.

He couldn't find words, and inclined his head.

Irving cleared his throat. "I'd hoped you'd show Duncan to his rooms?"

Niro blinked for a moment. Just stood and blinked. "That's it. The big thing you needed to see me for? You want me to walk an important man, down a hallway?"

"Niro..." 

He nipped at his own tongue. "Very well." He conceded "if you are ready, Ser Duncan?"

The man nodded, and they set off.

Duncan asked odd questions. Did he ever feel alone? Yes. Was it hard to be an elf in the circle here? Sometimes. How did he feel about Templars? Complicated. Niro asked a few questions of his own. But soon they were at the doorway, and Duncan was saying there's speak later.

As he turned into the hall he almost crashed into Jowan. 

"Maker save me from you blasted silent walking humans!" He yelped as he hopped back in shock.

Jowan wasn't there on a social call. There was a problem.

Everything was a blur.

The repository. The phylactory. Jowan...fucking Jowan was the blood Mage? He didn't care for Lily, not at all, but if Jowan wanted to be free, blood Mage or not, Niro would help.

Then it was done, and Jowan tried to save Lily and she was just yelling and Jowan looked to him, all big eyes and pain, and all Niro could do was mouth 'run' and hope his friend and student could escape.

The Templar, the one he liked most beyond Gregoir, they met in the hallway as Niro went to grab anything important as he was thrown from the tower. Cullen. A quick goodbye. A wish of luck.

Niro had nothing beyond spare robes and his paint brushes. Those couldn't come. Mages kept nothing.

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

He started the day with a headache.

He ended the day half blinded by the light. Feet bruised. Head between his knees as his Commander instructed him to take deep breaths. He'd thought the man would think less of him. But the warm embrace made tears fall. And Duncan wiped them away. They didn't have time. But he would let Niro take some anyway. Sitting on a stump. Tears. Irregular breathing.

Everything was lost.

And now he was going to war.


	2. Unrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fen Tabris is to be married. Her cousin Soris is to be married. Her other cousin Shianni remains blissfully single.
> 
> Of course it goes to hell, because of course.

"Cousin! You need to wake up!"

Fen jolted upright in bed, her vision obscured by the sheet of hair entangling her face, as pale spindly arms whipped about pulling overlong red hair into clumps to free herself, the formerly urgent voice devolved into laughter.

"Fen! Fen! Hold still!" The voice called, thick with laughter. Pale calloused hands gently separated the oppressive hair wall, eventually revealing the distinctly too chipper face of Shianni.

"Fen." She sighed, still smiling. "Calm down! Don't you know what today is?" She was giggling again.

Fen groaned "Fen's sleep in day?" She groaned, rubbing at her eyes "How are you so happy Shianni! We were out drinking late."

Shianni shrugged "I don't go grey faced like you?" She said with the inflection of a question. Before she dodged back to dig through her cousins trunk, eventually dropping Fen's brush, some finery and a small square mirror on the foot of Fen's bed. "Your groom? Nelaros, he's arrived early! You can't look like a rabid dog."

Fen's screech roused her father, who Shianni waved off with promises of helping her get ready.

"Do not ever make that noise again, it's terrifying." The words were without heat as Shianni looked down at the little, shaking, wild haired elf, grey eyes already large as a normal elves now the size of saucepans.

"But! But I'm not ready!" Fen gasped. "I...i-i-i what if he doesn't like me? What if I look like this!" She cried, gripping fly away hair in both fists.

Shianni nudged her out of the way and sat down. "I sneaked a peak." She whispered "He's gorgeous." She confided. "And I'm going to help you get all pretty." She continued, brushing hair from her cousins worried face once more "Besides, why wouldn't he like you? You're sweet, and fun, and smart." She assured "Just work on the shyness." She teased, lifting the comb in one hand. "Now, lean forward and we'll get your hair all taken care of. Then your clothes, then your face paint, and then you can go look for Soris while we get ready." She soothed.

Fen did as she was told and relaxed into her cousin gently combing the mess, occasionally pressing tight to her scalp or pinching tendrils when she found a snarl too tight to comb through normally. Soon her hair was again, laying long and flat and Shianni pulled her from bed and helped her dress, carefully braiding her hair down her back, leaving some hair free to frame her face. Upon looking in the mirror Fen pressed both hands over her mouth "Oh, Shianni, it's beautiful! Will you teach me?" 

Shianni glowed under the praise "What, you want to do hair instead of shooting things with arrows?" She gasped teasingly. "Yes. Sure." She continued, reaching into her pocket to pull out a few small jars. "I talked to everyone" she whispered conspiratorially "I found some real makeup. Lip paint from the market square, even!" She said, practically vibrating as she took off the lid of one jar, revealing a liquid blackness. "Workers use this to keep the sun out of their eyes" Shianni explained dipping a brush into it and motioning Fen to close her eyes. "But it's very pretty. Just keep your eyes shut until I say, alright?"

"Yes Shianni"

Even after the paint was applied she was not told to open her eyes, but felt a soft brush on her eyelids.

"Open!" Shianni crowed, holding up the mirror.

Fen opened her eyes and instructed and obediently looked into the mirror. Her face, framed by dark red hair, was still a bit grey, but gaining more color. Her grey eyes decorated in a thick line of black, and a soft green powder arched above the lines. She'd never worn makeup, and her eyes felt a bit stiff, the skin itchy and sticky, but it looked nice.

"Now open." Shianni demanded, pulling the last jar to the forefront revealing a pink cream.

Fen looked at it in doubt.

"It's very light!" Shianni defended. "I promise, cousin, it won't look bad with your hair." 

Shianni as usual got her way and despite the odd slippery feeling of her lips, Fen felt she looked beautiful. Shianni slapped her cheeks to bring color up. "Now go find Soris." She demanded.

Fen skittered out, stopping only to hug her father and console him that she and Nelaros would not leave. Cyrion gave his daughter a ring and ushered her out.

Fen trotted about the alienage, stopping to speak with several other elves, laughing and clapping at a bawdy tale of a mermaid from some drunks and receiving a handful of coins from friends of her late mother. She'd convinced a couple to let their daughter remain with Cyrion stating her father would need help when she moved. She'd also unfortunately engaged an unpleasant woman with an unpleasant face and unpleasant children, who called her everything short of 'knife-ear' until Soris appeared to herd her away before Fen threw a punch or burst into tears.

"Well aren't you looking pretty." He greeted, laughing nervously. "Think we could find you a nice Dalish man? We could run?" He hurried out breathless.

Fen smiled "do you even believe in the Dalish?" She teased.

Soris sighed "Okay, no, not really. But I suppose you don't have anything to worry about, do you." He groaned "From what I've heard your groom is magnificent, and my bride looks like a dying mouse. Could we switch or something?"

Fen snickered "Looks aren't anything and if you and Nelaros could be happily married it would still only make two out of four of us happy."

Soris sighed "Yes yes. Shall we.....Uh oh." He stopped, looking back to the stage that had been erected for the weddings. He took off at a jog, Fen following shortly after.

Soris might have heard what Vaughn said, Fen got there just after, throwing her hands in front of her in a steadying gesture "Ser! Please, we are all very well into preparations, could you please wait for whatever it is you need?" She always tried to calm down humans, it usually resulted in a sneer or a strike but sometimes the shems backed off.

"And who are you?" The Shem noble hissed.

"I am Fen Tabris, milord." She answered, eyes down.

"Wha!" The cry was cut off by the crunch and crash of a bottle, and the noble fell to the ground.

"Don't you know who that is? Vaughn Kendall! Son of the Bann of Denerim!" One of the other humans cried as Shianni covered her mouth and gasped "Oh Maker."

"We don't mention this if you don't." Fen said sternly, running over to Shianni once the humans left.

"They won't." Soris assured the women as they tittered in the wake of the action. "Vaughn won't be telling tales about an elven woman taking him down." He assured. 

"Oh my, is everyone alright?" 

Not recognizing the voice, Fen turned to assure the newcomer of the safety, likely, for today.

She didn't recognize the two new elves. One male and average height, but handsome, with light blonde hair, fine features, and light gold skin. The woman was plainer, but still beautiful in her own way, paler skin, blunt features and brown hair, but amazing eyes.

"I....I'm sorry, I don't..." Soris elbowed her sharply "Smile cousin, you are to be married." He hissed, walking over to the woman with his features tight, but in a smile.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I'm Fen..." She sputtered, eyes wide "You're so...I'm lucky, I, um..." She trailed off, slowly turning the color of her hair. "Sorry."

Nelaros smiled widely "I'm a lucky man to be treated so warmly. Tell me, are you nervous?"

Still blushing heavily Fen smiled slightly "A little."

Nelaros looked sympathetic, "I'll spend the rest of my life learning how to make you happy." He assured. He didn't seem overly invested, in fact he seemed apologetic, but Fen was happy that her groom both wasn't an ogre, and was kind. She would deal with everything else.

"Let's let them get ready, cousin." Soris chimed in, looking a bit worn. "We'll finish our preparations." And he ushered her off.

In reality she and Soris joined the Hahren Valendrian for a cup of tea, Fen drinking through a reed to prevent the lip paint from smearing. Eventually they were called out to the stage.

"You still look beautiful." Nelaros murmured as she took her place. 

The woman giggled "And here I thought you two had run off."

Soris gave her another tight smile, and Fen noted Nelaros was looking worn as well.

The human Chantry sister began the service, and off to the left Fen noticed a commotion. She gasped, reaching out and gripping her cousins arm as Shianni shot her a questioning look from the side as a witness. "Vaughn." Fen murmured tightly.

The man was soon front and center declaring something about a party, and there not being enough women. Fen felt Nelaros press up behind her, and grip her other wrist "I won't let them take you." He murmured, a voice like iron.

When Fen snapped out of her daze "where's the bitch that bottled me?" Were the words she first heard.

"Soris! Shianni!" She cried as a man grabbed her cousin.

Vaughn turned to her, slimy expression in place. "And see the pretty bride." He murmured.

Fen felt Nelaros tighten his grip as if he were preparing to throw her to the side.

"Look! Take me but leave the others!" Fen cried wildly. It was a promise she wouldn't survive, but if it was her, or five other women, she would take the bargain. Nelaros was bruising her wrist, soft denial flitting out under his breath. He may have been praying.

Her hopes and fear shattered when Vaughn merely laughed.

She felt a sharp burn and saw black, she noticed her wrist was free, and a flurry of movement, then nothing.

When Fen woke Shianni was hovering over her again. She sat up, her fine clothes adding to the feeling that her head was the heaviest thing ever, as the silky lightness brushed a mostly numb body. Shianni was here. Soris's wife to be was here, another woman she knew was here, but her head hurt. All she knew was Shianni.

Eventually men came to take them, one of them called her a scrapper. But she didn't know why, she'd offered no resistance physically.

The doorway was filled with shadow, and when the men turned she saw it was Soris. She could see in the quirk of their lips they didn't see him as a threat, still in finery, looking nervous at the weight of the sword on his hip. He made a small noise and a dagger slid to her.

Fen couldn't truly see straight, but the dagger was almost all muscle memory. She spun, which was really all she could do, as taking normal steps didn't seem possible. When she hit the chest of a guard she rammed the dagger up with as much force as she could. Noting she must have succeeded when a hot liquid poured down her arm. She heard another gurgle as she and the dead guard hit the ground. Soris, though shakily, was wielding the sword, the other guard was dead.

She scrambled over the corpse she landed on and crashed head first into her cousins chest, sobbing. He hushed her like a small child and brought a bottle to her lips, she drank gratefully. Her head cleared and the pain took its leave. "Oh, thank you cousin!" She snuffled. "They took Shianni! We have to get her!"

"I know." He said, relieved his cousin was acting normally again "Nelaros took a bad hit when he tried to stop Vaughn taking you, but he's watching the hall for us. Got his eye patched up pretty well." They turned the corner and trotted down the hall. Keeping an eye out. Fen suddenly grabbed Soris's arm "The kitchen! Isn't there a man from the alienage that works here? He could tell us where she is!"

Upon entering the kitchen, they didn't find an elf they knew, but a stranger who quite possibly killed the cook. Fen washed the blood from her skin, and gratefully took a worn pair of scratchy breeches and a shirt to replace her bloodstained dress. She pressed the dagger into Soris's hand and walked into the dining area. Full of off duty humans.

They demanded a drink.

Fen, feeling a strange welling of hatred smiled demurely and walked back into the kitchen, locating the brandy. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted rat poison, and unceremoniously dumped it into the bottle before walking out to pour, ignoring Soris's aghast expression.

A few moments later they tiptoed over the new corpses and down the hall. Weapons disguised in spare clothing. 

"There you are!" Nelaros hissed, sliding catlike from a side room, the other dagger to Fen's clenched in one hand. "They took her in there!" He gestured pointedly to the end of the hall. "I've wanted nothing more then to help but I'm no match for two armed guards.'

Nodding Fen led the other two to the room and forced open the door. The guards were dispatched easily. And Fen was getting more and more alarmed at the hate coursing through her. Blood was a second skin, and lives were for taking, anything to survive and get Shianni, Soris, Nelaros, and herself out of this.

They found Vaughn, they found two other nobles, and they found Shianni bruised and broken.

Fen vaguely heard Vaughn offering money. Heard Soris retch, and Nelaros snarl, and then she was nose to nose with Vaughn as he slid to the floor, her knife, formerly buried in his groin, now just beneath his chest. Hot wetness against her legs, and she knew Vaughn was spilling out of his own body. Good. She thought.

"Shianni needs you." Soris hissed "we'll go find the others, you stay here!"

Fen knelt by Shianni's side. Gently stroking her hair back with blood soaked hands and assuring her that every man she'd crossed was put down like a bad dog. She softly told her of the poison, and Shianni smiled, still sniffling. "I want to go home. Please? Just take me home?"

Soris and Nelaros returned, with only Soris's would be wife. "We need to go, I'll take the rear." Soris blurted "everybody go, can Shianni walk?"

While she leaned heavily on Fen, she could. Soon their bloody entourage was spilling back into the alienage. They rattled off their story quickly. Valendrian told them of the back service entrance, and Nelaros swung Shianni into his arms. "Tell them we did it, and that we've run off through the market." He hissed, as Soris and Fen ran after him. 

"They're going to purge the alienage!" Soris called ahead, echoing Fen's thoughts.

"They will anyway, but there's less of a chance if your Hahren works with them." Nelaros barked as he shouldered open the back. "We met Dalish on the way. We can go to them."

Bewildered, but with no other plans the quartet forged on to the forest.

They met with the Sabrae clan one week later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's shitty and I'm sorry but I always wanted to do this, and I figured I'd set up a whole new world because why not?
> 
> I'll fix this when I'm back home, I promise.


	3. Desolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cousland sisters had it good. Until they didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry it's been so long!
> 
> Also, this chapter is over 4000 words. So...Writers block took a hit to the face.

 

Since childhood, Svera and Summyr had always ended up crawling into each other’s beds on stressful nights.

Their father and brother riding to war at Ostagar was definitely stressful. 

Svera yawned widely and stretched, hip knocking her sisters as Summyr grumbled and shuffled away from her sister. Pushing herself up and wincing at the cold air, Svera drew the fur up over her chest, truly, her smalls were not warm enough.

Clutching the fur blanket to her with both hands and shivering for a moment she looked about the room. For her life changing, it looked normal. Her sisters light blonde hair was visible, but little sister seemed to have retreated under the covers. So her hair and a Summyr shaped lump were the only signs that she was there.

Standing and wincing at the ache Svera hopped across the cold stone floor, peeking swiftly into a large looking glass as she dove for the armoire and a pair of slippers. At least until she could put her boots on. Her armour and Summyr's were done up neatly on their stands, a testament to how utterly not tired they had been upon crawling into bed together and trying to sleep. Usually it was laid out, awaiting care in the morning.

Svera hastily jerked a pair of breeches on, hopping from foot to foot, feet freezing as she pulled a thin shirt over her upper body.

“Svera, are you dying?” Summyr groaned, uncovering her face and sitting up. immediately yelping  and jerking the furs back up her chest “Andrastes perfect tits it’s freezing!” She gasped.

Svera nodded rapidly cinching her lower leathers around her waist before sitting down and jerking on her boots. “I almost took one of your dresses.  Easier to wear thick stockings.” She admitted, pushing chestnut hair out of her face and lacing up her second boot. “And so help me if I didn’t think mother would murder me, I would shear this damn hair off!” She cried in dismay as a lock fell in her face again. “Summyr! Get up and help me!” She whined.

Her sister, faelike and ever graceful, sprang from the bed in a catlike twist wincing upon contact with the floor, and pressing her legs together and wrapping her arms around her chest and hopping  up and down “Coldcoldcoldcoldcold!” as she bounded over to the armoire ripping a random set from the darkness and springing back onto the bed, clutching the dress to her front.

“Are you serious right now?” Svera said blankly staring at her scantily clad sister as she cringed away from the floor around the bed.

“Cold” Summyr whimpered, tossing the dress to Svera and holding her arms up “Help and I’ll do your hair.”

Sighing, Svera rightened the dress and climbed up with her sister shoving the dress down over her head and helping her fight her way to the neck and arms.

Eventually, two rumpled women, one in leathers and one in a rather shapeless dress stood disheveled and laughing on the bed. Svera hopped down and shuffled a rug over for Summyr, helping her down.

“Before you do my hair, we need to fix that sack you’re wearing. No sister of mine is going to wear such an ugly thing.” Svera laughed pulling a leather corset from the armoire. “This one is brass and brown leather, good with blue?” She asked, holding the deceptively heavy item up.

Summyr nodded and grabbed it. It went over the bust, and down to her hips and it was heavy. Eventually holding it in place she instructed her sister to hold her dress by the hem and pull down firmly to straighten it. Shuffling the corset so the back was on her front she deftly pulled the laces tight, before instructing her sister to wrap the dress around and hold tight. Eventually the corset was in place, gleaming brass plate dancing along the delicate skin of her collarbone and cinched tightly into the pseudo armor. Her skirts falling in contrast. She spread her arms and grinned, looking like a raggedy doll with her hair still  flyaway. “Done!”

Svera raised an eyebrow and flicked her eyes to her sisters hair. Summyr pouted and gestured that Svera should turn around  she snatched a brush from a table and ran it smoothly through her taller sisters hair, eventually combing up and tying it into a tail with a leather strap they kept. When Svera tuned she looked every bit the warrior she was. Her body lean and muscled hidden beneath her formal leathers, slender shoulders firm and strong leading to slightly enlarged biceps from hefting her axe. But her face was mischievous, with sharp brown eyes and full lips perpetually smirking. She held herself perfectly, more to hold her weapon than impress nobles. Her hair pulled tightly back from her face made her seem ready for battle. Summyr was always impressed by her sister. Having chosen a bow, Summyr’s arms were toned but not as impressive as her sisters, but her back was a solid wall of muscle. Svera had mentioned once that she doubted their mother would let them continue if they became to muscled, as such, she was personally happy that her body didn’t seem to bulk up like some of the knights she’d seen. Had her arms turned to tree trunks she would be forced to set aside her beloved axe.

Summyr brushed her hair hastily, sweeping it back and planting a brassy comb into it to hold it from her face.

If Svera looked like a warrior, Summyr looked downright regal. Her flowing skirts accentuated by the corset and its daunting metalwork, pale blonde hair swept elegantly up and her eyes heavy lidded.  

“D’you think mother would let us leave if we convinced Dad?” Svera  asked, fiddling with a boot lace as she sat on the bed. “I love Mother, I do. But I want to fight, not marry and pop out a few. I mean, it could be fun, raising children, but I’m barely twenty winters and I want to explore a little.”

Summyr frowned, holding one hand over her stomach. “I don’t mind getting married.” She said “But he’ll..expect things. And I don’t want to. I don’t want to think about it.” She said firmly, slipping her feet into a pair of ornate leather boots.

Svera stood and placed her hands on her sisters shoulders “You, are my precious, baby sister.” Svera said firmly “And if you don’t like something that’s happening, you tell me. If I can help it, you won’t be married off, and if all else fails we can have you take vows to the Maker. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Summer smiled slightly and hugged her sister, leathers pressing uncomfortably together. “My hero!” she giggled, but smiled, truly happy. “Let’s go find Father. I’d like to kill a monster!” She giggled, pulling her sister by the hand from the room.

They walked, greeting servants and soldiers alike until the arrived at the hall. “Maybe…In here?” Summyr said, deftly gripping the wrought handle and applying a bit of force to move the heavy door.

Teyrn Bryce looked over from his meeting with the hook nosed man he spoke with.

“My pups! Brash as mabari, I’m surprised to see you here. You remember Arl Howe?”  He greeted with a laugh.

Summyr deftly lifted her shirts and fell into a curtsy “Arl Howe, it’s wonderful to see you!” Her fathers friend may be a bit creepy, but he had always been kind to her and her sister.

Svera bent at the waist “It’s good to see you again.” She said genuinely. “How is Nathaniel doing in the Marches?”

Rendon laughed “So bold, asking about my eldest before me!” he cleared his throat “He is well, he said to send you his greetings in his last letter.” He looked at her closely “You are becoming a fine warrior.”

“Oh, M’lord, how forward!” Summyr gasped, covering her mouth and widening her eyes.

Bryce laughed “Simmer down, pup. See what I contend with Howe? One is so businesslike and the other full of mischief! Between the two I’m at the end of my rope!”

“Doubtlessly because she was trained as a rogue.” Howe said sardonically “Speaking of mischievous,  my son Thomas asked after you, Lady Summyr.”

Summyr snorted. Delilah and Nate were all well and good, Thomas….only when sober, which wasn’t overly common “To what end?”

Howe’s eyes widened incredulously

“To what end, she says.” Bryce chuckled “We can’t get anything past my sharp eyed girl.”

“She’ll make a good wife for a man with suspicious guests.” Howe said gravely.

Svera shook her head “Lord Howe, how have you been? I heard your troops were delayed, their problems haven’t  inconvenienced you on your journey I hope?”

Howe replied in the negative and the four had a long conversation.

“Father.” Summyr said suddenly “We wished to ask if we might ride with you to Ostagar, Svera and I could be of use to the king.”

Bryce frowned “I’m sorry my dear. But no. Not this time, though I don’t doubt you would be invaluable/” He said gently “Your brother and I ride to war, and should we not return, you and your sister are the last heirs of Highever, we need you safe.” He explained gently

Svera and Summyr sighed in resignation and accepted that they were to stay behind.

“Such dutiful daughters.” Howe laughed  “If only my Delilah was so obedient.”

Bryce shook his head “Girls, we’ve tarried long enough. The guard is changing, so it is just past midday. I need you to relay a message to Fergus.”

“But, where is he? We didn’t see him when we came down.” Svera aked, puzzled.

Bryce shook his head. “He was out with the troops this morning, but he should be in his chambers with Oriana and Oren. Please tell him he is to ride out tonight, and to say his goodbyes. I shall ride out with Rendon in the morning after the new delay.”

“Alright, Father.” Summyr relied, tugging Svera to the other side of the hall. As they exited their mirth from the morning drained away.

“M’ladies.” A voice stated from down the hallway.

Summer whipped around, lifting her skirt and dancing over to the tall man in armor. “Rory!” She cried “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Ser Roland Gilmore laughed and shook his head “Sorry M’lady, I’ve been patrolling the town. In wartime bandits spring up, and as I’m to be part of the token force staying with you, the Teyrn asked that we familiarize ourselves with the lands.”

Summyr smiled “But you’re back now. So it’s okay. Why are you in the hallway?”

Svera walked up finally nodding in fond greeting.

Roland returned the greeting and smiled sheepishly “I’m afraid your hounds are stirring up trouble in the kitchen.”

Svera made a disgusted noise and hid her face in her hands. “Both of them? Rain and Sunny?”

Roland shrugged “As close as their mistresses. They do it all together. Though I believe your sister impressed her love of trouble on them.”

Summyr giggled “I imagine Nan is pleased.”

Roland rolled his eyes “She’s threatened to quit. Your Mother demands you two go straighten it out. Nobody wants to get too close to them. Mabari would never attack their master, but everyone else is fair game.”

“Rain would never!” Svera gasped, aghast.

“Yeah, not willing to test that. Please, let’s just, follow the yelling.”

Roland took a right down a side hall, into the servants quarters and stopped for a moment outside the  door to brace himself before flinging the door open “Nan! I found them!” he called out.

The old woman whirled around from the calming words of two elf servants snarling something at them. “About time! Those mutts are making lunch out of tonights roast no doubt!” She cried.

“They aren’t mutts! They’re purebred Mabari!” Summyr stated petulantly.

“Either way, those beasts should be put down.” Nan snarled

Svera scoffed “Maybe you should be put down.” She growled lowly.

“Alright you three!” Roland cried throwing his arms out in negation. “Nan, we’re just here to get the dogs. Once we do that maybe we can all talk rationally.”

Nan glowered, but nodded, and the sisters calmed enough to walk to the door of the larder. The two elves looked visibly relieved.

Rory walked over to the door just as Svera pushed it open and disappeared inside. Summyr scurried after and Rory took the rear, shutting the door behind him so the girls could calm the dogs.

“Sunny Sunny!” Summyr called cheerfully as the smaller of the two turned and made eye contact before continuing her hunt around the larder.

“Rain!” Svera barked, Rain, the larger of the two with the darker coat turned and woofed, but kept searching.

“They’re acting oddly.” Roland noted.

“Yes.” Svera said slowly “It’s like they’re looking fo-!” She was cut off by Summyr’s shriek  “Rats!”

Gilmore drew his sword as both dogs began lunging at extremely large rats. Even if there were only around ten of them, they had been giant, and unexpected. Muzzle and paws coated in blood the dogs bounded to their mistresses. Summyr bent down to pat Sunny on the head “Good girl, killing those bad rats.” She crooned, the dog barked and leapt about in a circle, the picture of joy.

Svera had knelt to scratch at Rains scruff. “No kisses, you’re covered in blood.” She commanded. Rain whined a bit but still wagged her tail.

“This.” Roland started, but stopped, swallowing convulsively before starting again “This is like the beginning of every bad adventure tale my father ever told. Giant rats from the Wilds. Wow.”

Summyr giggled but stepped to open the door. “Let’s get the girls out and tell Nan and Mother. Then we can tell Fergus.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t tell Nan about the rats.” Roland suggested.

It was for naught. As they opened the door Svera looked Nan in they eye and stated simply “There are ten dead giant rats in the larder. You’re welcome.” And she and Rain strode, heads held high, out of the kitchen.

As she stood in the hallway Roland and Summyr joined her a few minutes later.

“Nan told me a story. The Dog That Bit. Remember that one?” Summyr asked as she walked up to her sister. “It’s been so long since I’ve heard that one.”

Roland said his thanks and left, promising to catch up when the hubbub had died down. Summer, Svera, Rain and Sunny all made their way up to their sleeping chambers. Stopping when they heard Teyrna Eleanor talking in the hallway.

She turned and saw them just as they started to approach, stopping herself mid story and turning away from her friend, Bann Lorens wife if memory served. Dairren, her son stood next to her, and an elven woman with blonde hair and pretty eyes.

“My darlings!” Eleanor called “Please, you remember Lady Landra?”

The girls both nodded, bowing and curtsying in greeting. Landra smiled “Surely you do, I believe I spent my time at the spring salon trying to convince one of you to marry my son.”

Dairren shook his head, smiling sardonically “And made a very poor case of it.”

“And you remember my son, Dairren? He’s not married yet either.” She tossed in.

Svera laughed but happily greeted Dairren and asked to speak later.

Summyr was introduced to the shy elf maid Iona. They got along well, despite Iona being older, promising to speak more of alienage life soon. Perhaps after the troops rode out. Eleanor warned them it would need to be soon, as she was planning to go with Landra to her lands, leaving Svera, Summyr, Oriana and Oren as the sole Couslands in Highever, fearing that her presence would complicate Svera ruling the Teynir.

Resigned, Svera winked flirtatiously at Dairren as she left with her sister.

“I take it I’m in my own room tonight?” Summyr sighed quietly.

Svera nodded, a grin stretching her lips. “Sorry. But Dairren and I do this every time we get together. He’s a good friend.”

Summyr rolled her eyes and led the way.

Fergus was in his room with his wife and son. “Ah, my little sisters come to see me off!” He laughed.

Summyr frowned “Fergus, you’ll be safe right?”

Their brother snorted “It’ll take more than a few monsters to bring me down.”

Orianas expression hardened  “I am not comfortable with you being so flippant. You go to war.”

Oren, the cute little tyke, asked multiple questions about dragons and swords

“Dragons are horrible creatures Oren, they eat people!” Orianas aghast cry still echoed in Sveras mind as she giggled.

Eleanor and Bryce entered to say their goodbyes. Oriana said hers as well, and Fergus vowed to show Oren a sword soon.

“Now just to find a good man for you two.” Fergus joked as he turned to speak with the sisters while Oriana and their parents chatted away.

Svera smirked “Who says I don’t have someone waiting?” Oriana turned to her slightly, eyes wide. “That is most inappropriate.” She hissed worriedly.

Fergus chuckled “Only if he treats her poorly. My sister is careful.”

Oriana rolled her eyes and went back to her conversation. And Fergus told Svera to tell Dairren hello for him. Whenever it was less awkward.

Summyr slid over to chat with her sister in law. Happy for the older womans council. “You said you were staying?” She asked.

Oriana nodded and assured the youngest sibling that she would be there to help.

Feeling secure in her guidance Summyr nodded when their father asked the girls to turn in early. And went to her own room, the door just between her parents and her sisters rooms on the opposite side of the hallway. She nodded to Dairren as he slunk into her sisters bedchamber with a little wave and a sheepish smile.

Summyr laid down on her bed frowning. Even as sunny jumped up to nuzzle into her side. Summyr sat up and reached behind her, fiddling with the laces of the corset, feeling the relief as it loosened.

She flopped back down and tugged the comb from her hair, lifting her legs in the air she unlaced and kicked off her boots. “I’m sleeping in this tonight Sunny.” She grumbled, crawling up the bed and slinking under the covers and planting face first into her pillow.

Svera left a few minutes after her sister. Entering her room and beginning to unbuckle her leathers.

“Please tell me Fergus isn’t lurking again?” Dairren asked, coming from the darkened left half of the room.

Svera giggled and shook her head “It happened once and you’re forever traumatized. As one of my best friends I should be worried about how easily your confidence is shaken.”

Dairren laughed and helped her unbuckle and lace her armor until she stood bare in the candlelight. “I’m…very overdressed.” He murmured.

“Oh! Pick me! Pick me! I can help!” Svera teased tucking her fingers into the waist of his pants and jerking him forward. “Fergus says Hi, by the way. And I want to play cards tomorrow.”

Dairren laughed and threw his hands up as the eldest Cousland daughter pushed him onto the bed.

 

Summyr had always been a light sleeper. And it got worse when she was nervous. She’d woken in the night, nudged Sunny out of the way and grabbed her bow for polishing. Her sister was likely in a lovely post coital snooze with Dairren. Her Sister in law was likely curled up uneasily with her son, and her Mother was likely finally asleep. And yet Summyr was awake. Polishing a bow. Sunny climbed off the bed a few minutes later and advanced on the door, growling.

“Sunny? What’s wrong?” Summyr asked setting her bow to the side and standing.

The dog merely planted herself in front of the door and growled.

Nervous,  Summyr strode to the armor stand in the corner of her room, pulling the heavy chainmail off and laying it on the bed. Perhaps her Mother had been being funny. But the mail tunic would be useful, and was quicker to fasten than her corset. She changed with rapid jerky movements pulling a soft shift over her head after shedding the dress, and pulling the tunic on, wincing as she jerked out several strands of hair. The mail fell to her knees. But was quite loose. Luckily her mother had ordered a thin silverite length to be sealed in leather, and she hastily tied it behind her back to pull the garment closer to her body. If she was struck, she’d bruise, but at least she wasn’t swinging around tearing her breeks and chafing skin in the ridiculous getup. Fashionable, she remembered thinking, technically functional, but she’d never thought it would be truly useful in a fight, she’d thought it to be like Sveras ceremonial plate. Wearing it now, she was aware she would need to find something for her legs. But for now it would work, it was light, but sturdy and she was already in it and fastening her boots in just a few moments. She snatched her bow off the bed and slung her quiver over her shoulder knocking an arrow. All else failed she looked paranoid. She pushed the door with her shoulder and immediately jumped back as a bolt landed in the door by her head. Loosing the arrow she heard the grating metal on metal noise of  the arrowhead striking plate and hastily knocked another  her aiming true this time.

“Who are you? What are you doing?” She cried as more men rounded the corner and came down the hall.

She screamed as the five newcomers ran at her, she loosed two more arrows killing two more men when Sunny talked the third. A man in plate. The unholy crash his armor made upon striking the ground prompted the door across the hall to open and Oriana to peek out, disheveled and confused, only for her to slam the door and fall back screaming as she took in the scene. The door next to Summyrs flew open and Rain charged out. Dairren in his smalls who jerked the door closed once more and yelled something that was muffled by the door. Withing moments an unarmored Svera was hurtling out hefting her gilded axe and swinging violently at the fourth man as Rain took the fifth.

Standing shakily in the hall Svera and Summyr realized they had escaped injury, though Svera dashed back into her room to redress immediately.

The door at the end of the hall sprang open and Eleanor ran out in leathers. “Are you both okay?” She asked “You aren’t injured? Where is Svera, I heard you both!” just as she finished,Svera and a redressed Dairren charged back out of her room.

“Mother!”

Eleanor looked slightly surprised but shook it off when  Summyr assured her they weren’t injured.

Summyr walked across the hall as her mother explained that they needed to find Bryce.

Pounding on the door Summyr called to Oriana “Sister! They are dead but you need to come with us, and bring Oren!” She called through the door “We need to get to safety!”

Oriana eventually came out, holding a small ornate dagger in one shaking hand and Orens hand in another.

“Do you know how to use that?” Svera asked, doubt clear in her voice.

Oriana tilted her chin up “Not at all.” She said, a blush staining her face “But I will not let them hurt Oren.”

Svera nodded and walked ahead “I have the thickest armor, I’ll enter rooms first. Summyr, behind me, and Mother at her side. Dairren, Oriana and Oren, you stay behind walls and wait for us to tell you it’s clear.” She said firmly.

“I may only be a squire, but I can fight.” Dairren protested. Svera rounded on him with a fierce look. “Then when we find you armor and a weapon you can prove it.” She hissed. Turning and walking to the next door. “everybody ready?” She asked, as Oriana and Oren, as well as Dairren stood to the side, putting walls between their possible attackers and themselves.

After clearing the next room they found Lady Landra and Iona. Dead.

Eleanor hid her face in her hands as Dairren let out a wordless cry. “Oh, poor Landra, I should never have called her here!” Eleanor sobbed, wiping at her face and walking out. They fought their way down the hall, Summyr stealing arrows from archers, and recollecting hers from newly made corpses.

“The family sword!” Eleanor mumbled after they had joined up with a servant to kill several more of Howes men. It was undeniable, the sigils on their armor, their arrival. Howe had betrayed their father. The Teyrn of Highever. The sisters extra uncle was why their home was burning.

“I have my key, they must not have that! And then we must go to the kitchens, the servants entrance won’t be blocked off.”

“We could fight! Make him pay!” Svera snarled at her mother.

“Only the living taste vengeance.” Eleanor replied with a hard voice. “We will retrieve the sword, and your father, and run.”

Grumbling, but nodding in assent Svera trotted down the hall darting out and avoiding patrols in all the chaotic noise. The group opened the treasury and locked themselves inside.

“There’s armor here. Get everyone into it.” Summyr ordered, jerking leathers off a rack and turning to Oriana, who looked if anything, more terrified as Summyr helped her dress in full leather, covering her hands in gauntlets. Before turning to Eleanor who was trying to calm a crying Oren enough to get him into an overlarge mail shirt.

Dairren was matter of factly buckling his plate and asking permission to take a sword and shield.

Svera took the sword and strapped it to her waist to keep it away from her battle axe and its easy draw position.

The group left, coming face to face with two of the intruders who were dealt with, with Summyrs arrow and Dairrens borrowed steel. Upon entering the Hall it was chaos. Magic striking the Cousland soldiers, arrows and blades everywhere.

Summyr heard Svera scream to kill the mage as she ran past to join the fray. Eleanor took up position in front of Oriana and Oren, and both mabari and Dairren charged after Svera as Summyr ended the mage as commanded.

“Oh thank the maker. I thought they’d gotten through!”

Summyr turned to find a bloodied Roland approaching. “They did, but we killed them. We need to leave.” She stated.

Roland frowned as if to argue but Eleanor interrupted “Where is Bryce? Where is my husband?”

Roland looked surprised “He went to the kitchens, hoping to find you.”

“Then you come with us. And you guard my daughters. And my grandson.”  Eleanor demanded. A sinking feeling in her stomach as they all left, ushered by the few remaining knights.

Roland took a bad hit from a Howe knight in the hall. And by the time they reached the kitchens, he was leaning heavily on Dairren.

Eleanor forced the door to the larder open, cringing as she stepped over Nan. Only to see her husband laying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. “Bryce!” She cried, running to his side. “No, No. What happened?” She groaned as her hands fluttered uselessly.

“I wasn’t quick enough.” He said with a weak laugh looking to his daughters. “Oriana, you’re in armor.” He stated dazedly. She nodded and held Orens shoulders firmly as she and the others walked forward. “Oh, my girls. I’m so proud of all of you.” His words seemed strained, and he coughed at the end.

“Eleanor, Ser Gilmore, please, take them out, go to Waking Sea and take shelter with Bann Alfastanna, or go to Ostagar to alert the army. But you must flee.” He choked on his words.

“My place is with you.” His wife protested. “I will be staying. My place is with you, from death and beyond.” She stood and hugged her daughters and daughter in law. Kissed Orens cheecks and hugged him. Ignoring her daughters tearful protests and Rolands objections. Dairren had said little since discovering his mother and her handmaiden.

Even the dogs whimpered and whined, as their mistresses knelt to embrace their father one last time. The dogs lapped at his face and nosed his shoulders, tails tucked between their legs.

“I’ll kill every bastard that walks through that door to buy you time.” The Teyrna said firmly. “All of you, go. Now.”

With one last look at their home and parents, the Cousland sisters ushered Oriana, Oren and Roland out, following with Dairren and the dogs.

Summyr could feel her heart breaking.

And Svera fought the urge to scream as they ran into the night.


	4. Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terrin and Tamlen have always been the best of friends. It stands to reason they'd go together to check out the cave.
> 
> Naturally it ends in heartbreak.

                  Terrin Mahariel was a hunter. He had been a hunter from the time he caught bugs as an elfling. He had been a hunter from the time he could find all of the clans children in virtually any game of hide and seek with little difficulty, and he had maintained the attitude clear into adulthood.

Three things had never changed. Terrin was a hunter. Terrin and Tamlen were practically the same person and thus inseparable, and three, Merrill was the only female his age that got to hang out with him.

 

"Lethallin, you worry everyone with your glaring, couldn't you smile? Just a little?"

 

He was honestly rethinking Merrill. He loved her, truly, he did, as the little sister he'd never wanted, but lately she'd been prodding him to be more social. Smile Terrin you're scaring the children, why don't you play a game with the others Terrin? Terrin, please ask Vlisa if she has any spare herbs?

 

It wasn't that Terrin wasn't happy, thought that was debatable, he simply didn't enjoy the full variety of facial expression. To see him was to see an elf, almost as tall as a man, lean, mid length brown hair, brown eyes, and a mouth set perpetually in a line or a small smile....when around Tamlen or Merrill.

 

"I don't want to, Merrill, I'm content. I don't need to show it by contorting my face." He murmured, lifting one hand to lightly pinch the bridge of his nose. "Besides, I'm leaving momentarily, I don't want to get all _exuberant_ to go murder deer, it's vulgar."

 

Merrill sighed "Oh, fine. But Keeper Marethari is getting worried." She said lowly, bright green eyes alight with concern. "You know how she gets. Do you want a lecture? She does, she wants a lecture."

 

Terrin smiled and ruffled her hair, earning him an indignant sqwack.

 

He stood, adjusted the strap across his front, and grabbed the bow he'd been polishing. There was no point getting splinters. "Tamlen and I will be back by sundown, we're going east, should anyone worry."

 

He didn't wait for a response, he rarely did. Chronic last word syndrome, as Merrill called it.

 

He had barely reached the treeline when Tamlen materialized next to him. Always just a bit more expressive, far more charming, and he always moved with a touch more energy, Terrin was utterly taken with his friend. He was, in his opinion, the ideal, and was a standard he held all others too. Much as he was taken by Merrill's bubbly naivety, and willingness to help, disguising an utterly stubborn core. He loved them both dearly and everybody knew it. Even Tamlen and Merrill ribbed him, teasing about how he would never find a bond mate while he was so busy hovering around them. They might be right. Terrin was uninterested in the elves of his clan. And of the other clans, so far as he could tell. He simply...Didn't want them.

 

"You said east, right?" Tamlen asked, pulling his bow from its place on his back to hold it in a ready position as Terrin had. "Other hunters said they've been hearing things wandering about there, we should check it out."

 

Terrin snorted, pushing a branch out of his way and holding it up so Tamlen's path wasn't blocked. "Oh, yes, and we'll have new scars for it too. Terrin and Tamlen, mauled by a bear because they decided to investigate when they shouldn't have." His words were sarcastic and biting, but the slight incline of his lips indicated he was not truly bothered.

 

Tamlen growled in jest "We could be clan heroes if not for your constant mother henning." He accused, as dramatically as Tamlen ever got. "But no, you always want us to kill a squirrel or a hare, and leave. I swear, you're a shem, you've infiltrated us."

 

Terrin grunted and shoved his friend, obediently turning in the direction the other hunters had mentioned. "You've revealed me, I'm a flat ear, I sharpen my sad round ears each night so nobody notices. I've been starving for years." he declared, staring wistfully forward, a smirk curling his mouth when Tamlen snorted.

 

"Off with you shem, to the right, I'll check over here, don't make me regret keeping my silence." he growled lowly.

 

With a chuckle, Terrin obediently faded into the brush to their right. 

 

Terrin was pleased as he walked the area Tamlen had given him though. He'd found several bushes of edible berries squirreled under a trees thick branches. And a nut tree, likely unnoticed due to the sparse nut growth. In truth, it was a nice little area to walk through. he knocked an arrow and took down a nice plump rabbit, and was midway through skinning it when he heard Tamlens voice. Low and threatening, not in jest. He threw some leaves over the gutted carcass, murmuring a silent prayer to Andriull to save it until he could return for it. It had been meant for he and Tamlens lunch, now it looked like he'd be hauling a glob of meat and bone back to camp.

As he got closer to Tamlen, he heard other voices, clearly calling Tamlen Dalish, he assumed them to be human, thus knocking an arrow he entered the situation armed, humans were not terribly trustworthy, at least not in his experience.

"Lethallin, the shems have a tale for us." Tamlen stated, part stonefaced, part mocking.

 

"But it's true!" Cried one of the humans "We were just looking for a bit of an adventure, treasure hunting! But the monsters chased us out!"

 

Terrin snorted "Monsters? Where?"

 

The man looked close to tears, and Terrin may have felt a twinge of pity, but it was nothing he felt he needed to express. "A cave, just a ways that way!" The human brandished an arm. "I swear,we;ll leave, we don't want any more trouble!"

 

Tamlen's fingers tensed threateningly on his bowstring and Terrin found himself excusing the humans before the situation got too far out of hand. Tamlen said nothing about it, but his slight glare was enough. "Well? What do you think of their story? Shall we go see?"

 

Terrin dipped his head, staring at the ground and weighing his options. "I can live without it. But I can't live with you living without it." he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose again, a pressure in his head that was rapidly becoming familiar manifesting.

 

Tamlen grinned and set off, the birds went silent midway through their trek, but the cave seemed normal, beyond a bad feeling, and a bunch of spiders. The two managed to kill their way through their enemies, ending in a large, malformed bear.  shaking his head at the mutant Terrin stepped into the room. After finding a statue of Falon'Din outside, he wondered what treasures this chamber could hold.

 

He poked around a bit, eyes constantly turning to the large perfect mirror that dominated the center of the room. Tamlen made no effort to appear to look at other things. He merely stood, staring intently into the depths of the glass from several feet away. When Terrin heard his friend step up the stairs he returned, standing at the base of the stairs as Tamlen reached out to touch the glass.

 

"Lethallin." He breathed, amazement bleeding into his tone "It's no mirror, it's a window, a door!" He exclaimed "It doesn't reflect but I can see things." He stated, eagerness in every line of his body. "I see...A city! Underground. Creators, the Keeper will be ecstatic." 

 

Terrin smiled and stepped forward "She will be, we should get back and tell her." Terrin felt his own eagerness growing, just as Tamlen yelled and light filled all of Terrins senses, he felt the stone floor on his face, and a burning pain in his skull, and then there was nothing.

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Later, he awoke to a womans voice. His vision filling with Merrill and tears as she cried out and hugged him. He heard the dull murmur of other voices around him. "Merrill, where? Tamlen?"

Merrill wiped her face "You're in a cave, Lethallin. But...It's been almost two days, there has been no sign of Tamlen, we just found you. He's gone."

 

Terrin shook his head despite the pain "No, he was there!" He cried "By the mirror!"

 

"Hush, Da'len." The keepers voice soothed as she approached him from the other side of the mirror. "We will mourn Tamlen, but we must move on from this place, it is tainted. We must get you to an Aravel for healing. I plan to take us across the Waking Sea, Ferelden is facing more than we can survive." she explained

 

Merrill looked aghast "But the mirror! We could learn much!"

 

Marethari looked hesitant "It is unbroken. but, Da'len, it would be your responsibility, nobody else may touch it." She said carefully. Merrill nodded and stood "We'll have Tamlens funeral, and we'll leave. Terrin, we could figure out the mirror, maybe find him!"

 

Terrin sat, painfully, upright. "He's here. I know it."

 

Marethari knelt touching his shoulder "He is not."

 

Terrin obstinately shook his head "He's here."

 

"Terrin." Her sympathy was tainted with sharpness.

 

He stood shakily, despite her protests. He saw his fellow hunters in the room, two laying the mirror on a cart likely brought for him. "He's here. I'm staying."

 

Merrill cried out in denial as Marethari made a sharp gesture with her hand "You shall not. We are leaving, now."

 

The clan filed out, the mirror being pulled. Marethari looked back after the others had walked out. Opening her mouth to scold him as she saw the lone figure left in the room. 

 

"Leave me. I'm staying." He snarled "He's here!"

 

Marethari took a step back, astounded at the rage on the reserved elfs face. She turned, and left. Merrills frightened face following.

 

He sat on the stone floor. Head in his hands. All he had needed to do was protect them. Now Tamlen was gone, somewhere, but here, but not. Merrill, tears in her eyes, fear in her face, gone.

He had failed his hunt. Failed his friends. Failed. Failure.

 

He would stay. And he would rectify it. He would.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we can cycle back. Sorry for the poor update time.


	5. Ache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Niro to check on his progress with the wardens. Perhaps things are looking up.
> 
> Likely not,but it's not like things will be getting much worse. Right?
> 
> Part one of Niros arrival at Ostagar.

                       Niro's feet were dying. He could tell. The soles cut and bleedng, toes scuffed, heel split. It was miserable, but he trudged on, despite the pain in his spine and burning in his legs. His eyes felt uncomfortably dry, he had no more tears to shed and had stopped quietly crying himself to sleep like a child the last two weeks. Duncan never judged him. In fact he seemed sympathetic. He also seemed sympathetic to the sorry state of his feet, going so far as to dip into his funds to purchase a pair of boots. Boots that caused Niro to stumble about like a newborn halla, trip, and lose energy at twice the rate. Frustrated and red in the face Niro had suggested hawking them for bandages instead with the next merchant. Duncan had solemnly agreed,asking if he knew what was wrong. To which Niro had been forced to admit he'd not worn shoes a single day in his life, and perhaps they'd work better on a mabari.

 

 

Soon after, body hurting, heart still heavy, his feet had been carefully cleaned and wrapped in the bandages, moving their progress forward tremendously. Niro began to notice he didn't hurt quite so much as before, and once the cuts on his feet healed, while the texture of said feet remained silky, he noted that the skin was less likely to break. He was forced to admit it must be an elf thing.

 

"We shall arrive at Ostagar within three days." Duncan called to him. They had taken a short break and Niro was attempting to fine tune the precision of his ice spells a ways away. While he was magically powerful,a tidbit he thought of with pride, and a teensy amount of smugness, he had absolutely no idea how to use it in a combat situation. Duncan and he had bounced ideas off of each other, but magic was no good for sparring, and Niro knew _theoretically_ how to stop someones heart with ice, but theoretical killing didn't help with the real thing.

 

"Very well!" He called back, letting the spell fizzle out in his hands as he hopped down from the ledge he had climbed to practice on a large rock. "Shall I try nugslaying again?" He asked curiously.

 

Duncan smiled indulgently. Niro needed practice with practical magic. They both needed to eat, and nugs in this area were common. Too much meat seemed to make the mage sick, so mostly he survived off of various roots and plants, only nibbling at a strip of meat when forced, otherwise freezing it solidly for travel. Duncan could admit to being impressed at the sheer amount of plant knowledge the mage had. He was also a dab hand at healing. 

 

"We have enough. Your stores are well?"

 

Niro looked puzzled for a moment before kneeling down to rifle through his pack, taking stock of food he'd managed to squirrel away. " I have enough for about a week." He said brightly. The past few weeks had done the mage a world of good. Duncan had been concerned that a mage so used to power would have trouble acclimating to the outside world. But beyond being remarkably fragile, he seemed to simply defer to Duncan as an expert in his field and behaved like a model student.

 

But the mage was _smart_. Not a day went by without Niro happily exclaiming over some plant in the underbrush and is usefulness. It went beyond elfroot and flowers, the elf had correctly identified Embrium, Splindleweed, Deathroot and Crystal Grace simply by remembering their descriptions. He knew many recipes for salves and potions, asking only that Duncan show him how to correctly prepare the plants. Duncan had made his second investment in his recruit in the form of a satchel of vials and reagent preparations. So far neither had any injuries that would last, Duncan was treated to a new poison on his blades, and the warmth balm came in handy as they got farther south. And not for the first or last time, Duncan was quite happy with his choice. The elf might be wildly eccentric, and quite naive in some ways, but he was powerful, eager, and resilient. Duncan had no doubt he and Alistair would hit it off, as for a few days Duncan had taken to using a few of the mans jokes to try and make the distraught mage smile. He had loved them. The elf also seemed completely without malice, until one mentioned the Chantry. Then he became a bit hostile, likely due to him being locked in a tower his entire life for being born. Beyond that however, the elf seemed to favor kindness and understanding over judgement. Duncan imagined it was the price of being so academic with no outlet.  He could admit that the elf was definitely his most educated warden. With Alistair in second place. 

 

"We have the option to press on and arrive tomorrow, or set camp, and arrive in two days." He offered.

 

The elf tilted his head, hair like moonlight spilling over his shoulder, out of the leather tie he'd been using. He refused to cut it off, instead tying it back. Duncan let him keep it, as a mage he was not going to be more hampered by it. And also, he was unsure what the slight elf, with his big blue eyes would look like without his near cloak, he could deal with it later, for now, the elf needed something familiar.

 

"If we push, could we camp for the night before we arrive to enter in the light?"

 

Duncan smiled indulgently "Yes, I won't send you walking into a military camp at night."

 

The elf nodded vigorously "Let's do that."

 

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True to Duncans word, they arrived at Ostagar by midmorning. Niro looked about, wide eyed, fascinated by the ruin. Duncan lightly touched his back to guide him along. But as they walked deeper into the ruin Duncan heard a very familiar voice.

 

"Ho! Duncan, you've returned, I trust your journey was uneventful?" Duncans mouth twisted into a wry smile, internally remembering the electrical fire he and the mage had scrambled to put out after a test of chain lightning, as Niro called it.

 

"It was. Your Majesty, forgive me, I was not expecting a-"

 

"Royal welcome?" Cailan chuckled "But for the Wardens I could do no less. Who's this then? Your new recruit?"

 

Niro looked about wide eyed, before narrowing his eyes and tilting his chin up, a great impression of the indomitable enchanter from Kinloch Hold that he once was. "Yes, your highness." He stated, "I am the new recruit."

 

Cailan seemed delighted "I hear you are a mage, friend, I trust we can count on your spells to aid us in our glorious victory?"

 

Niro seemed a bit taken aback likely due to his inexperience with actually using spells practically. "Yes, your majesty, I will do my best."

 

Duncan and Cailen exchanged words about the Blight, Niro tried dearly to pay attention but in reality he didn't understand some, some he already knew, and while the king was attractive his personality was somewhat off putting. So naturally it became hard to focus. Niro felt a swell of guilt. He did like the king. He truly did. He just wasn't sure he could hold a conversation with the man, but he was thrilled by the mans confidence and easy smile. Yes, Cailen was a good man, a man he didn't mind following, and he was pleased to serve his country.

 

Soon enough Duncan was shepherding him over a bridge. "Please, go find the Grey Warden Alistair, and then meet me by the fire over there." Duncan pointed directly to a fire a ways away. Niro nodded to show he understood. and Duncan left him.

 

He saw familiar faces, mages from the circle. A handful of Templars he knew by name. He shared a glare with Senior Enchanter Wynne, skirting widely around her area. He saw a man standing by the quartermaster and walked over. He seemed different than the others, but before he arrived he was waylaid by a human scolding him for not delivering a message, gently extricating himself from the situation he made it to the quartermaster,only to be questioned as to his strange dress. Shaky and confused, suddenly very unnerved and a bit scared of all the humans, he jumped when the man he'd come over to see clapped him on the shoulder.

 

"You must be the new recruit, took you long enough." The man teased "I'm Daveth, and Duncan pointed you out when he passed. We're to be brothers in arms, you and I."

 

Niro blushed a bit at the proximity and nodded "I look forward to serving with you." He stated "Just be sure to watch my back as well, squishy mage, you know."

 

Daveth raked him with a look that made his body tingle "Ah yes, _that_ won't be hard. I'll see you." the man chirped as he walked off.

 

Niro took a moment to compose himself. He couldn't reconcile such blatant racism, then such blatant interest within moments of each other. He took a discrete breath and beat back the blush staining his face, and tuned to walk up some stone steps, hoping this Alistair was wearing warden gear.

 

"And here I thought we were getting along so well, I was going to name one of my children after you. The _grumpy_ one." The voice was pleasing, the joke brought a smile to his face, and it being directed at one of the most pompous mages he knew made it wider.

 

The other mage stalked off, slamming a vindictive shoulder into Niro, who staggered but continued forward.

 

"One good thing about the Blight, is how it brings everyone together." The man joked.

 

Niro chuckled a bit self-consciously "That it does."

 

The man turned to face him full on and Niro needed to fight another blush, feeling like a child with a crush. And that's what it had to be. For all he knew this man was terrible. But his smile produced more of a reaction than Daveth's obvious proposition.

 

"You wouldn't be another mage, would you, Maker, that's all I need."

 

Any attempt to fight back a blush was unnecessary, it was gone, his face slid out of its smile, and he glared. This man didn't know him. How dare he. Just because he was a mage.

 

"Oh, that's some look. Look." The man started, holding his hands out in apology "I didn't mean it that way. It's just. Me and mages don't usually get on, I was trained as a Templar, see, and they know it. I'm a Grey Warden, Alistair, provided you aren't here to give me a dressing down like the last three, I'm pleased to meet you. And I'm very sorry for any offence." 

 

He seemed genuine. His apology showed in every line of his face, amber eyes soft. Suddenly his throat was tight, and the blush was back, and damn it, he had never been like this. This sudden unwarranted attraction to the strapping human was not something he'd even conceived of. "I.. yes, apology accepted. I was sent to find you, but not by the mages, I-"

 

"Oh, damn, you're the new recruit, I'm so sorry I didn't recognize you. And then, you know, insulted you. Maker I promise I'm not always an arse."

 

Niro chuckled, and the humans face brightened, seemingly unused to people smiling or laughing at his poor jokes. "Yes, I am Niro, former enchanter of Kinloch Hold, and now, humble Warden recruit. I'm very pleased to meet you." He held out his hand on instinct and immediately regretted it when the human removed a gauntlet and shook it. He had such big, warm hands.

 

"Are you feverish?" The human asked, reaching out to press the back of his hand to the elfs face. "Because I could find a healer, you don't need to..." Suffer went unsaid. The humans face was tinged with pink too. And had they been in the circle they'd be finding a quiet corner already. But Niro had never been one for hiding, so he simply went without, and besides, the human could just be reacting to his epic blush.

 

"I...No. Just. Overwhelmed." By your face, body, _eyes_. Such a nice shade of amber.

 

"Oh, very well, shall we...go, then?" He said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Duncan is waiting, you can ask me questions, on the way..If you'd like, I mean you don't need to, you ah. Yes. Duncan."

 

Niro smiled and walked after the man, Alistair. Things might be looking up.

 


	6. Ache Pt 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of Niros journey in Ostagar.
> 
> Also flirting because I doubt Alistair even knows how the elf is taking his actions.
> 
> Warning for mentions of sexual assault and harassment in the past. The perpetrators were sent away, and Niro himself only revisits the memories when he's incredibly stressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for tuning in yet again. Comments are welcome!

Niro trotted behind the human. Thoughts still spinning, looking anywhere but the Warden except for brief moments necessary to see where he was going.

Even so. Seeing Duncan frowning by the fire made him happier than anything. For all of his attraction to the young Warden, he didn’t know him at all. And the relative safety he felt in his company was directly tied to his genuine demeanor. That being said. He at least _liked_ him. Even as Duncan scolded him for provoking the rude mage. Niro simply hovered as close to Duncan as he could. So far, this human and this human alone had his trust, and he was frankly terrified to be away from him. But that’s what he was told to do.

 

They would go into the Korcari Wilds and gather darkspawn blood. And also maybe some Grey Warden Treaties. Alistair, for some ungodly reason had stepped to the side and gestured their only elf forward. Niro knew he looked near transparent with how pale he must have gotten. Duncan clucked his tongue and waved them off. Daveth, the other recruit, Jory, and Alistair following behind.

 

Niro bit his tongue and walked, hoping his gait looked reasonable. Leading mages was one thing, leading random soldiers. Human soldiers. In a place he had already realized didn’t treat elves all that greatly, made him nervous. He recognized the three he had with him likely posed no true threat. But the startling realization that even Daveth, the smallest of the three, was taller and broader than he. He shivered lightly. He was beautiful, and he remembered the few Templars that stepped from Gregoirs shadow saying as much. He logically knew his appearance didn't matter. But the words echoed. Yes, he remembered them. Nothing had ever proceeded to very much physical damage. And Gregoir had always sent them away, made it stop. Niro had always been at least strong enough to stop the worst of it, but still, the slimy hands on his skin still made his breath quicken in panic if dwelled upon too long.

 

He shook his head. He had not been raped. He had known a few Templars that had taken liberties, trapped him, touched when and where he did not wish it. But only as a young man. As he grew, so did his power and he was more than capable to utterly destroying anybody who tried the same without permission. These men were not those Templars. Alistair had never even become a Templar. And Niro felt like Duncan could be his new Gregoir at least in that. Besides. He _liked_ Alistair. And if the situation arose…

 

He bit his lip. He finally felt real attraction, to a person not completely out of reach even, and suddenly long suppressed memories wanted to take it away. No. He was not a circle mage any longer. He would not bow, kneel or defer without good reason. And he did not need to be afraid.

His gait loosened, and he didn’t see the approval from his humans.

Eventually though something caught his eye and he veered completely off course.

 

“Hey! Elf, where are you going?” Jory cried out indignantly. Receiving an elbow from the Warden.

Alistair sighed “He’s finally not totally freaked out being alone with us. Use his name. It’s Niro. You caught that at the fire I hope?”

Daveth snickered and Jory looked torn between sheepishness and indignation.

 

Niro for his part missed the entire exchange. Instead approaching the kennels.

 

A mabari, fur looking a bit matted, sickness clear in its posture wagged its little tail weakly and snuffled at him.

 

“He likes you.”

 

Niro jumped and spun around. The kennel master held up his hands in a negating way.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Poor pup here, his master died in the last skirmish. Got some blood down his gullet. Poison. Nothing I can do if he won’t let me near him.”

 

Niro cocked his head. “What do you need done?”

 

The Kennel master smiled, small. He seemed a very discrete man in general. “I need to get this muzzle over his head so I can treat his wounds. Then, if someone finds the task worth it, I need an herb from the Wilds to make the poor boy some potion.”

 

Niro tentatively reached for the muzzle, the kennel master released it easily and he slowly stepped into the kennel. The mabari seemed nervous, but in the end, took heart to the mages soothing whispers and allowed the muzzle.

“A right whisperer you are!” The Kennel Master crowed.  “Don’t suppose you’re also goin’ into the Wilds?”

“I am.”

The man nodded “If you’ve a mind, there’s a white flower with a red center. Bring it here and I can fix this old boy up.”

 

Niro nodded happily, turning and nearly colliding with Alistair. “Oh!” He scrambled backwards, nearly tumbling over a large pile of sacks and rope. He felt his wrists caught in gauntlets and instinctively pulled to evade until he felt his body swing back up and collide solidly, but not harshly with a breastplate. “Ooof.” He felt his wrists releaed and a steadying hand on the jut of his hip.

 

“You alright there? Sorry, for grabbing you..With my gauntlets. I mean, I did grab you, but to stop you from. Falling. I…Are your arms okay? I’m sorry I panicked and tried to. But metal, and your arms are very…”

 

Niro exhaled a shaky breath, and stepped back, a soft chuckle falling from his lips with it. “Wrists are bruised.”

 

He saw Alistair go from bumbling and awkward, but worried, to utterly mortified in the span of several seconds. As the human opened his mouth to begin, no doubt, spewing apologies, Niro shot one hand up to seal over it. His wrist, true to his word, was already turning a dusky black, which would eventually fade to blue or purple, then yellow, then back to the pale healthy skin.

 

He saw the humans eyes widen in horror at the sight and gentle hands pulled the other into sight, it was in the same state.

 

“Oh, you silly human.” Niro sighed “I bruise easily. You were trying to help, but you are a bit too strong….and exuberant. Gauntlets are not good for catching.” He explained. “Now, I’m going to take my hand off your mouth.” And your maker damned lips. So _soft_. “And you’ll apologize, one time, and we’ll be on our way.”

 

Alistair reached down to lightly lift both damaged arms into view, refusing to grip with the gauntlets. “Maker, I’m so sorry. This looks very painful. If there’s anything I can…I have some healing salve in my pack.” He realized suddenly.

 

Niro smiled “Good. I’m fresh out.”

 

Alistair nodded and led them into the wilds, immediately indicating Niro sit down as he removed his gauntlets and fished out his salve. The elves fingers trembled slightly, likely with the ache, his slender arms blackened and sore looking. Alistair frowned and sat next to the elf, placing one arm in his lap and so gently Niro could barely feel it, stroked the salve into his skin. Sure, a few times the human slipped, pressing too hard, and the elf hissed, leading to a stream of apologies. Daveth, at first to his discomfort, took up his other arm, using another jar of salve. The bruising lightened in minutes but his arms ached even then.

 

Daveth clapped him on the shoulder “I was a cutpurse. A ways from here. I used to get the ones, the black ones, din’t always have salve. Hurt like the void. Couldn’t let my brother go through that, could I?”

 

Niro grinned “No…Brother.” He felt a swell of warmth for Daveth. He would be a good friend.

 

“Niro. I’m..Sorry, again. I didn’t think, I.”

 

“Stop apologizing you great pup.” Niro sniffed, turning to the warrior, as Daveth snickered and wandered over to Jory.

 

“Great…Pup?”

 

“Yes. You’re like some giant loveable puppy who just wants to help, and you feel so poorly about it that we cannot even be angry when you shatter the dinnerware. It’s fine. Just be more careful.”

 

Alistair brightened, voice dropping unconsciously to a flirting tone “Loveable, am I?”

 

Niro flushed scarlet, much to the warriors confusion, and stalked ahead. Leaving a howling Daveth and Jory, looking faintly exasperated.

 

The Wilds were inhospitable, and the flush from Niro's face was soon for the rush of battle, rather than embarrassment. Was the human joking? Was Niro that obvious? Or was the human completely unaware. He hissed, frying a hurlock with a close range bolt to the face just as one of Daveths arrows struck true.

 

“We have the blood.” Niro announced, capping his vial and looking about to ensure the others did the same. “Now the treaties, yes?” In his exhaustion his accent came through a bit thicker, his ‘the’ s, sounding like ‘ze’ s. Jory frowned at that. Usually the accent was light and sweet, simply more singsong Ferelden to anybody who’d never heard the accent. But it did get thicker in exhaustion and stress. Jory had evidently just placed the accent itself.

 

“Yeah-ehem, I mean yes. The treaties.” Alistair agreed, gesturing them forward.

 

The chest was shattered beyond repair, and the treaties missing. With a sigh of dismay Nro stood and shook his head at the humans. Who all seemed every bit as resigned. They had suspected this would happen.

 

“Well well. What have we here?”

 

Niros head snapped up so quickly the world spun and he missed most of the conversation. He cursed himself for allowing his mana to drop so low. He hadn’t expected such heavy resistance in the Wilds. And with the stealth spawn, as Alistair had dubbed them, he was exhausted.

 

“Is that it then? No interest in the treaties?” The woman asked.

 

Niro licked his lips, taking a steadying breath “Your name?”

The woman looked surprised. Niro noted she had golden eyes, and that was fascinating. Pale skin, black hair, gold eyes, female, maroon shirt, leather skirt, leggings and boots. He took careful inventory.

 

“I, am Morrigan.” The woman said calmly, though with an air of getting something she wanted “ _You_ , are the first to ask. I like you.” She said slyly.

 

“Your affection is easily won.” He shot back wryly.

 

“Not so. Now, what else do you wish to speak of?”

 

Niro closed his eyes to gather his swimming thoughts. “Do you know where the treaties are?”

 

Morrigan smiled, as if someone solved her riddle, maybe he had. “My Mother has them.”

 

Alistair opened his mouth to say something but stepped back meekly at the look the elf shot him.

 

“Can you take us there?”

 

Morrigan laughed “One of you knows the correct questions! Lucky you!”

 

After meeting her mother (Flemeth, witch of the wilds.) Niro was quite impressed. More so when the old woman was kind enough to use a spell to replenish his mana and he no longer felt like half chilled gelatin.

 

Morrigan was kind enough (Ordered to) walk them back to the gate.

 

Niro cursed “Oh, damn. I forgot the-“ He cut off as a flower was held out in a gauntlet.

Alistair looked sheepish “I overheard the herb you needed, and since I hurt you, I thought I could, try and make it up to you.”

 

Niro smiled, slowly, feeling warm. Yes. This one had a great heart. He could trust him now. Proven. Not to restrain himself with all the off balance puppy behaviors he possessed, but to try his hardest to take care of his fellows. Him.

 

After the flower was given to the kennel master they were swept up to their Joining.

 

Niro didn’t want to. Not when he looked at the corpses. Jory, the ass, run through. Daveth, someone who called him brother, might have been his friend, from the blood.

 

Alistair nodded gravely, but supportively, and Duncan approached like he would a wary animal.

 

Niro didn’t choke as Daveth had, but he did fall heavily. He would need to note upon waking, however, that he had bruising on his back from an armored arm. And he had never struck the ground.


	7. Ache Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niro and Alistair make their way out of Ostagar with heavy hearts, and a Witch, and then they name a dog.
> 
> I'm sorry I'm so bad at the chapter summary thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment if you like this story, it encourages me to go faster. Not because I'm holding stuff hostage, but because I'm constantly suffering writers block. So you might see a chapter that's really great and wow! And then one that looks like a middle schooler got my computer. And I'm likely to do better with encouragement, which makes me WANT to write and thus the mood strikes more. If that makes sense.

Niro woke with a noise that could generously be called a groan. It sounded more like a weak croaking gasp, but yes, groan. When he finally forced his eyes open he shrank back into the stone, back protesting loudly, as he took in the two humans standing over him. A moment later he relaxed, simply Alistair and Duncan.

“Welcome to the Grey Wardens, Niro Surana.” Duncan intoned gravely “You are one of us now.”

The man helped Niro to his feet, spine still protesting. Niro shuffled a bit, finding his legs could still work, it just took a moment, and looked up at his commander. “What now?”

Duncan smiled slightly “The King has asked that we attend a war council. We will need to set out in just a moment, but please, take a second to regain yourself.”

Alistair nervously cleared his throat, shuffling from foot to foot before walking closer and nodding in uncharacteristic seriousness at Niro. “After each Joining, we place some of the blood in the amulet, to…remember. It is called the Wardens Oath.” He hesitantly held out a small, but sturdy amulet. The chain silverite, clearly, with what appeared to be, but couldn’t possibly be, a glass pendant, filled with the thick blood of the joining, sealed on all sides with a thick line of silverite. He could admit it was beautiful, as he took it from the man’s palm with delicate fingers. The song emanating from it however, clogged his throat and sent his eyes out of focus. The blood seemed to speak.

Duncan nodded as Niro shook his head in confusion. “Darkspawn are tainted creatures, as you yourself are now.” At Niro’s shocked look he patted him on the shoulder “I will explain after the battle, suffice to say, the taint will call to you, and you seem more sensitive than most.” And with that Duncan turned and walked off, leaving Niro clutching the pendant in confusion and staring after him.

“Hey.”

The soft voice startled him out of his thoughts and he whirled to face Alistair, who looked at him with concern.

“It’s going to be alright. He can explain after the battle. Do you…Do you _want_ to keep the amulet?” He asked hesitantly “If it hurts, or if it makes it hard to think, you don’t need to wear it. I don’t wear mine. It didn’t bother me like it bothers you, but I found it made me uncomfortable, so I put mine in my pack.”

Niro nodded slowly “If we’re to fight. I don’t want to be distracted. I’m bad enough at fighting as it is.” He admitted sheepishly.

“You aren’t _bad_ at it!” Alistair corrected “You’re just a bit unrefined. Which is, totally understandable.”

Niro fixed him with a glance that made the human flush and gesture uselessly with one hand. “I can put it with mine, if you’d like.”

Biting his lip and looking at the delicate amulet one last time, Niro returned it to Alistair. “I don’t want to put anyone in danger because it distracted me.”

Alistair nodded in approval and took the amulet, nodding at the path Duncan had taken “We should go, you have a fancy meeting to attend.”

“What, you aren’t coming?”

“Oh no. I’m not important enough for a meeting with the King.” He sounded bitter. A strange tone for the genuine man. But Niro wasn’t going to go about poking all the bruises in this mans life.

“Alright, his loss.” He settled on in the end. Glad for the surprised widening of the humans eyes.

Alistair's usual grin crawled into place. “Yes yes, now go. I mean, if you’re late you might hurt his feelings, and he’ll cry, and that would just be _sad_.”

Niro was happy at least that they parted with smiles, the memory of a small laugh on his own lips. As he started down the way. Alistair branched off near immediately, but Niro came upon a long table with battle plans strewn over it relatively quickly.

“Good, you’re here.” The King stated, as all three humans, Cailan, Duncan, and Loghain, launched into plans.

“We just need someone to light the beacon for the signal to charge.”

A mage and a Revered Mother stood off to the side, the mage stepped forward at this opportunity “I could lead some of the mages, and we could easily light the beacon.” He stated plainly.

“I’ll trust no lives to your spells mage!” The Revered Mother snarled, stepping in as well.

Cailan held up one gauntlet covered hand. “Alistair and the new Grey Warden will light the beacon.” He stated decisively.

Niro's lips moved before he comprehended he even had something to say “Shall lives be trusted to my spells then?” He said, forcibly even, as the Revered Mother opened and closed her mouth like a fish. “I fear, I too am a mage. Since we are debating just who is worthy to save lives.”

The Revered Mother turned an interesting shade of puce. As she started toward him a laugh cut the stunned silence.

“And here I thought all Wardens were utter sticks in the mud!” Cailan crowed “And then I meet the rebellious mage.” His merriment dwindled and he fixed Niro with a stare. “You and all the mages here are every bit as worthy as any soldier or commander.” He shot the Revered Mother a look from the side of his eye “All would do well to remember that.”

And in that moment Niro realized that for all of his childish mannerisms, and seeming obsession with glory, Cailan would make things better. He’d heard rumors of the King becoming more interested in politics, he knew, as soon as the battle was over, the changes would begin.

 

That thought carried him across the camp.

“You have no patience for the Chantry, do you?” Duncan asked after a few quiet minutes.

Niro cleared his throat nervously “I’m sorry. I just-“

“I understand.” Duncan said softly “Is there a reason for your animosity?”

Niro frowned “Every reason. Two lines give me hope. But the Chant? The Chant hates me. It hates that I’m an elf, a mage. Why should I bear love for something that inspires people to hate and fear me? Something that makes me less?”

Duncan nodded, silent for a moment. “I understand. That mentality may suit you well. Just be careful.”

Niro was still musing on the conversation at the fire.

“What? What do you mean we won’t be in the battle?” Alistair exclaimed.

“Kings orders.” Niro mumbled, still half in thought.

Alistair shot him a look from the corner of his eye “Fine, but if the King orders me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold I’m drawing the line, darkspawn or no!”

Niro's face lit up for a moment, a snort of laughter escaping him, both at the joke and Duncan's expression, somewhere between knowing, fond, and utterly exasperated.

Niro turned minutely to Alistair “Oh, I think I would like to see that.”

Alistair snorted, eyes crinkling “Oh I don’t know, It’d have to be a pretty dress.”

“It could be a great distraction!”

“What? Me shimmying down the Darkspawn line? We could kill them while they rolled about laughing.”

They grinned stupidly at each other, and Duncan sighed in a way that sounded as if all the world was against him.

“Go. Light the beacon.” He commanded, as he began to walk off.

“Duncan!” Alistair called “Maker watch over you.”

Duncan looked back “May He watch over us all.”

 

Niro stepped back. The blackened heartwood on his back thrumming as he prepared to run across the camp.

“Across the bridge. We must reach the Tower of Ishal.” Alistair called as the noise level got higher closer to the bridge.

As it turned out, crossing a bridge under active attack was both harder and easier than Niro expected. On the one hand, trebuchets. On the other, well built bridge and few soldiers to collide with. He was knocked over by the fallout of one bit of the bridge being hit, but he was quickly helped to his feet by Alistair and nudged forward.

Once across the bridge they were accosted by two humans, a mage and a warrior fleeing the tower. “Wardens!” One cried upon seeing them “They’ve gotten through! The tower is overrun!”

Alistair stepped forward “Calm down man! Explain yourself.”

Niro stepped after him gripping the mans gauntlet and tugging it.

“What?” He asked quickly, worriedly.

“The tower is overrun by darkspawn. I can _hear_ them.”

Alistair's mouth set into a grim line, nodded. “I can as well, I guess I was just hoping it wasn’t true.” He forced a smile “Well, looks like we’ll see battle today.”

Accompanied by the two extra humans they fought their way up the tower. By the second floor Niro noticed his mana reserves were higher, though he ached as if his body knew its old limit had been surpassed.

“What’s that look? Do you need a potion? I think Duncan gave y some lyrium in case you needed it.”

Niro looked at Alistair “It’s just that. I _don’t_ need one. But I should. And at the same time, lyrium makes me ill.” He cocked his head “I’ve passed my limit, but my mana is in fine shape.”

Alistair shrugged “Maybe your body is compensating for the amount you’ve been using.”

Niro hummed “Maybe.”

On the last floor there was an ogre. One that excelled at lifting everybody but the mages up as they outright refused to come in range. Niro was stuck using ice spells for fear he’d fry one of his allies with electricity. Luckily, winters grasp seemed to allow the warriors to break the ogres grip themselves. Alistair and the other warrior looked worse for wear, pale, shaky, and obviously in pain, when the beast fell.

“We need to light the beacon. We’ve likely missed the signal.” Alistair wheezed, limping over.

Niro frowned, taking stock of his party. “I’ll light it, then I’ll get to healing you two.” He decided aloud, striking flint and iron until the beacon roared.

Alistair sighed as a burst of healing energy coursed through him immediately after the beacon lit, he heard a similar reaction from the other warrior. “Now we wait for further instruction.”

But none came. Within minutes the door burst open and under a hail of arrows all four fell.

 

 

When Niro awoke. His first thought was that he was surprised to be waking up..

“Ah, so you awaken.” A female voice, lightly tapping the sides of his memory, declared.

“I…Yes.” He murmured eyes forcing open for the second time… today? Was it today?

“I am Morrigan. We met recently.” The woman explained, haughty, but not accusatory.

He sighed “Yes. I remember now. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You have been through much. I won’t hold it against you.” She assured

“Am I…What happened?”

Morrigan cleared her throat “The man who was to charge, quit the field. Your army lost the battle. The Darkspawn swarm about the plain, I believe them to be feeding. Others, they drag underground, for what, I do not know.”

Niro closed his eyes and took a slow breath through his nose. Eyes burning.

“Your friend, took the news about as well. If much like a child.”

“Everyone who’s ever bothered with me in that camp is dead!” Niro snapped “My Commander is dead. My King is dead and their corpses are being desecrated as we speak.” He continued lowly “Kind, cruel. It’s nothing now. If you have something against grief help me leave and you won’t see my like again, why save me if you didn’t expect this?”

Morrigan looked stunned for a moment, then sour, then resigned “Perhaps… There is something in your words that rings true. I am…Sorry for the offence. But ‘twas not I that saved you. My mother was the one who carried it out.”

Niro nodded. “You, you said, my friend?”

“Ah yes the-“ She cut herself off, obviously rethinking her words “Warrior who came here with you before.”

“Alistair.” He whispered, near reverently “He’s alive?”

Morrigan nodded, oddly sympathetic “Yes. He waits out front, with my mother.”

Niro stood, noticing for the first time he was wearing approximately nothing. His eyes widened as he looked to Morrigan in confusion.

She laughed “Modesty is not your strong point.” She walked to a chest by the foot of the bed and dug out his robes, turning away to let him dress.

Niro nodded and started before the door before turning back “Thank you, Morrigan, for healing me.”

She flushed a bit, only for a moment, and regained her icy demeanor “You are welcome. But ‘twas my mother who healed you. I am no healer.”

He nodded anyway, and walked outside.

He was near immediately fixed with a pair of amber eyes. “You, you’re alive.” Alistair breathed “Thank the Maker.”

“See, I told you he lived.” Flemeth scoffed.

“Well you can’t _blame_ me. Everyone, Duncan...Dead.”

Niro looked at the ground before trudging over to stand next to his last companion.

The planning was a blur, but they decided to use the treaties. And Morrigan was to come with them.

Leaving the Wilds was bittersweet.

On the way though, they talked about camp. What skills they possessed. Morrigan could cook, Niro could not, Alistair was good at burning rabbits. Morrigan was good at poison, Niro at healing, Alistair was good with detecting magic, which put all three on roughly the same level of magic detection, though Niro and Morrigan would likely pick up the subtle things where Alistair couldn’t.

Midway down a road on the way to Lothering, one of Morrigan's suggestions, they were forced to stop their sharing when a mabari hound raced to them.

“Isn’t that…” Niro trailed off.

“I- Yes, I think it is.” Alistair murmured

Niro took a step and paused “Darkspawn.”

In a pitched battle the two mages and the warrior, with the dog, were able to emerge victorious.

“Remind me.” Morrigan called “To help you with fighting with magic. You’re expending way too much energy and your technique is atrocious.”

Niro flushed, but stopped Alistair from picking a fight. Instead kneeling down to stroke the dogs soft ears.

“I think it’s chosen you.” Alistair explained “Mabari do that.”

Niro bit his lip and gave the dog a tentative scratch. “So he’s mine? But we can’t take a dog with us.”

The mabari whined, and Alistair quickly shook his head. “Mabari are war dogs. He’ll be as much use to us as another warrior. Less backtalk too. And he can help us find food and water.”

Niro smiled. “Alright then boy, you need a name.”

“Honestly, does it need to happen now?” Morrigan growled.

“Yes.” Niro stated. Scratching the dog again. “Well, I like the elvhen gods. Maybe something about Fen’Harel? He is a dog after all. But then, Fen’Harel betrays the gods. So maybe not?” He tilted his head “What about Dane instead? Dane became a werewolf out of duty and kept order in the forest. And you will be helping us keep order in Ferelden.”

Morrigan hummed “Tis an honorable name, Dane.”

Alistair nodded “I like that one.”

Niro patted the dogs head again. “Dane sound good to you boy?”

The dog barked happily and spun in a circle.

“Good. Dane it is.”


	8. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Terrin and the misfit City Elves.

[](http://s845.photobucket.com/user/dragons_chaotica/media/DA%20Screens-Reference/Fen%20Tabris%20iconthing_1.jpg.html) [](http://s845.photobucket.com/user/dragons_chaotica/media/DA%20Screens-Reference/Terrin%20Mahariel%20iconthing_1.jpg.html)

Terrin left the cave after a nights rest. His clan was long gone, but he returned to their camp in the hope that they had left any possessions he had gathered over the years, or perhaps some food. He noticed a box, which undeniably belonged to him. Ashalle. She must have packed it for him. He would miss his erstwhile mother. Then, he noticed something strange, four other boxes. Not as nice as his, not as full.

“Oh good! I was worried you wouldn’t come back!” An elf woman cried as she dashed to the center of the clearing. “You don’t know me. I’m Fen. We’re the city elves that joined a little while ago?”

                Terrin sighed. “We?”

The woman, Fen, looked startled for a moment. “Well, me.” She pointed at herself “Fen, as I said. My cousins Shianni and Soris, and Nelaros. My, ah…Nelaros”

Terrin lightly pinched the bridge of his nose. “And why,” He started slowly “Are you here? The clan has left.”

Fen shuffled a bit. “Well. Ferelden is our home. Makes for bad Dalish, I suppose. But, you know. Or maybe not. I have no idea. Short story? We killed a few shems, they wanted to kill us back, we ran away, we wound up here, but everybody but you left. And then we decided to stay here with you. If…If that’s okay.”

Terrin groaned softly, the woman was near spastic.

                “Alright, fine. But you have to listen to me.” He conceded.

                “Good! Good! I’ll introduce you to the others. I know you weren’t keen on meeting us before. But if we’re to be a mini-clan we should know each other!”  

Terrin pulled a hand over his face “I didn’t even know you were here _to_ introduce myself. And I stayed to look for our brother, Tamlen.”

Fen looked sad for a moment.

“It’s not that I don’t notice people, I just-“

“It isn’t that.”

Terrin stopped the brisk pace the other elf had set. “Then why so glum?”

Fen shuffled again, biting her lip “It’s just. You lost everything. Your friends, and family. And here I am trying to make you take in four rejects.”

Terrin cracked a smile at her for the first time, she looked vaguely alarmed. “If I have four other elves willing to claim me. I haven’t lost everything. The searching will be easier with more hands.”

Fen merely stared at him for a moment before smiling and giggling in glee “I promise, we’ll do our best! Do we….Do we need a new name or anything?” She trailed off.

Terrin observed for just a moment. The woman was bubbly, but her heart was large, and in the right place. That’s all he truly knew of her. She wasn’t Dalish, nor were her compatriots. However, she wanted to stay, to help. He could live with that. She wasn’t fawning, or forcing, like some of the others. She had a spark of Merrill in her, and it was both a sad, and comforting thought. No, he didn’t mind her. Maybe she would be one more friend to add to his tally.

He cleared his throat after realizing he had gone quiet. The woman, Fen, not yet knowing him well would likely be concerned, if he had learned anything about new people. “We don’t have a Keeper, or a First. So we aren’t a clan, not really.” He explained.

“But why not? We could be. Clans are like family, right?  And you’ve more or less agreed to adopt us. So why couldn’t we be clan…Oh..How do you say it..Mahahreihl?”

Terrin snorted “Mahariel.”

Fen crinkled her nose “Ma-ha-ri-el. Okay. I’ve got it Ma-ha-ri-el. We can be clan Mahariel.”

Terrin raised an eyebrow. “As you insist. Very well, we are the pseudo clan Mahariel, since you need a title.”

Fen squeaked unhappily “I don’t need one. But it’s nice. I am now Fen Tabris of clan Mahariel. I like it.”

Mahariel clapped her on the shoulder, a smile still evident “You know. I do too. Introduce me to your friends.” He gestured to the three elves sitting by the trunk of a large tree, shooting them strange looks. One elf woman, two men. The woman had red hair, though far lighter than her cousin, and a sharp posture, as if she was angry. The men were different. One platinum blonde, almost grey, the other dark haired. Both held a stiff posture, either from sitting on the ground, or from stress.

“Right!” Fen chirped. “The redhead is my cousin Shianni, the brown haired one my cousin Soris, and the blonde is Nelaros.”

Terrin must have looked confused, as the blonde stiffly made his way to his feet and walked over. He held his hand out “Nelaros. I arrived for a wedding in an alienage, not my own, and from there everything went to the Void.”

Terrin nodded “A wedding?”

Nealaros laughed softly, self depreciatingly “Mine and Fens. It’s a good thing it was disrupted, not a good way it was disrupted.”

“I’ll have you know I would be a great wife.”

Nelaros snorted “Sure you would, but we don’t exactly mesh.”

Terrin could tell that just by looking at them. The man was reserved, the woman bubbly, mature and childish, beaten down and lively. Their marriage would have driven them both mad. Friends, yes. Little children who acted like old-men or hellions, no.

Shianni, the redhead, giggled, using the tree to push her up, even as Soris scrambled to his feet to help her. “So you see it too? It would be funny though, right?”

Terrin nodded to her “Absolutely hilarious. The stuff of Orlesian comedies.”

Shianni smiled tentatively.

Soris frowned “Orlesian comedy? How would you even know that?”

Terrin sighed “If we find books, we keep them. Entertainment when it’s raining or storming. Some Ferelden idiot must have translated a few of the Orlesian comedies. As a result, I have read them. Really, terrible stuff.”

Shianni and Fen giggled, Nelaros shook his head, and Soris looked pained on his behalf.

Terrin looked at his new misfits “So. Where do we start?”


	9. Rejuvenating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cousland, Loren, Gilmore party makes their way south.
> 
> Or, in which we are forced to realize Oriana has more experience in politics and thus, strategy, than anybody else in this party.
> 
> Please forgive how grainy Summyrs portrait is, I will get a better one for later.

[](http://s845.photobucket.com/user/dragons_chaotica/media/DA%20Screens-Reference/Mini%20summry%20icon.jpg.html) (Some Day Summyr will get a better portrait.) 

[](http://s845.photobucket.com/user/dragons_chaotica/media/DA%20Screens-Reference/Svera%20Portrait.jpg.html)

Oriana had developed a cough. And it had halved their pace. Roland was still a bit off balance with his head injury, and Dairren was still mourning his mother. Oren was, predictably, devastated, and had not ceased crying himself to sleep.

That is not to say the Cousland sisters were any better off, or even acting strong. Svera became angry and waspish before dissolving into tears and refusing anybody’s company but her mabari’s. Summyr developed a near constant sniffle, but both were distanced from the group. Everyone was distant from everyone. All locked in their grey sad world, too worried about their own pain and that of the others to intrude.

Svera jolted from her half sleeping state when her axe shifted and clinked softly against her armor. She stopped to fix the straps holding it to her back, breath labored from exhaustion. The others ground to a halt around her.

“Sister?”

Svera peered blearily over to Summyr “I’m fine. Just…Tired, like everyone else.”

“Then we should stop.” Oriana chimed in. Face drawn and hair looking as if it belonged to someone many years her senior. “We have four people who can fight. And two mabari. We have a noncombatant and a child. If we are ambushed and you aren’t at your best, Oren and I will die, along with at least one more warrior, or dog, who would try to defend the failing warrior and two noncombatants. Provided we put one dog and one warrior on each noncombatant we have only two fighters. If you fall we all do.”

Dairren started laughing, slowly, softly.

Roland joined in.

And soon the entire group was roaring.

“What?” Oriana snarled.

Summyr held up one hand, panting for breath “It’s just…Like you said. We have four trained fighters, two wardogs, and two noncombatants. And the only one thinking strategy is one of the noncombatants.”

“Oh….Well, that’s…Less offensive then.” Oriana sniffed.

Svera cleared her throat “Our sister is right. And already a better Tyrna than I could ever be.” She sighed. “We need to pitch camp. Who isn’t dead on their feet?”

Dairren grunted, the only one to make noise.

“Okay.”   Svera continued. “The gold we filched from the treasury was more than enough to get us two tents and some shite blankets. We’re saving the rest for emergencies, and lodging when we get to Waking Sea. Summyr, Oriana, and Oren, with Sunny in one tent. It’ll be cramped, but you’ll have a wardog and our fastest fighter.” She bit at her lips for a moment, the sting calming her. “We’ll try to pitch by something we can push your tent on, so you can’t be sneaked. Tent two is me, Roland, Dairren, and Rain. Something happens, we all come bursting out with steel. Dairren has first watch. We’ll set out late tomorrow so he isn’t weakened, and we’ll sleep in shifts. I’ll go after Dairren, Roland after me. Got it?”

Nobody argued.

They managed that way for a time. Fighting off stray bandits, a darkspawn or two. Summyr had managed to bring down a ram in the Hinterlands that only Roland knew how to prepare, an only Oriana knew how to cook. But they ate well. The nobles slowly being taught how to clean an animal, Oriana teaching them to cook it, as she herself learned the intricacies of cooking over a fire rather than baking a sweet cake in an Antivan oven.

That night when Oriana had set them straight, seemed to be a turning point. They all worked better together. The mabari became great trackers of game, and soon Summyr could gut a ram with no instruction.

Svera remembered some of those times fondly. Summyr and Roland kneeling next to Oren, teaching him how to clean a ram. He’d cried, and they’d comforted him, but he’d learned.

Svera locking blades with Dairren as they trained him up a bit. Svera using the ancestral sword rather than her axe, and not knowing what to do with her off hand until Roland showed her how to work a shield. She wasn’t great at it, but she was passable. Much better than she was with twin blades. While Summyr could dance about with her bow and daggers, Svera was just ambidextrous enough to not drop the shield.

Sveras favorite memory though, was of Summyr teaching Oriana archery. It took weeks. And they had it, at the pace they were going. News from the south shortened their trip when they heard Waking Sea was already full of refugees. They decided to turn to Redclffe. While Eamon and Isolde were not as close to their family, Isolde and Elenor had been on good terms.

And still Summyr kept trying to teach Oriana how to properly fire a bow. She wasn’t very good at it, as was to be expected. But it made Oren happy, thinking his mother was a brave warrior, just like his father. In the end, the last few days before arriving in Redcliffe, Oriana struck a bargain with the sisters. Teach her to use daggers, and she would educate them a little about the politics of Ferelden. The sisters knew some. But their job was to marry a powerful man, or be their brothers soldier. Summyr would have been given to the Chantry, in Marcher society, Oriana explained. The heir and the spare. Nobility, military, religion. The designations of three children. The sisters acquiesced, and they began their crash course in the intricacies of the higher courts. While Oriana became, if not a good dagger fighter, one who at least knew how to stab someone, get the knife out quickly, and fall back. She got better at dodging, Svera joked one day, earning a glare from her stepsister and a laugh from the others.

Oriana would never be a fighter. But at least she knew how to defend herself a little.

Thankfully, Isolde welcomed them. And Connor and Oren hit it off well.

And Svera thought, if for only a moment, that things were looking up.


	10. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Checking in with Lilith at the Circle Tower before news of Ostagar reaches anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, three chapters in two days, and images! Am I forgiven? Please say I'm forgiven. Please, feel free to toss ideas or speculation about in the comments. Friendly reminder that guests can comment too! I'd love to hear what you guys think. Politely of course. Something you want to see, something you certainly don't want to see? Lemme know guys!

[](http://s845.photobucket.com/user/dragons_chaotica/media/DA%20Screens-Reference/New%20Lilith%20Iconthing.jpg.html)

As a rule, Lilith rarely prayed in the Chapel. She had friends who prayed, Anders, Jowan…Friends who didn’t, Niro, Karl. But now she seemed to be alone. No silly prayers with Anders, who was quite alright for a man who’d escaped the Circle for the…Was it six or seven now? The umpteenth time, was currently on his six or seventh escape attempt. Which would have been the cause for much muttering if he hadn’t used Niro being conscripted by the Wardens after helping Jowan, now outed as a blood mage, escape the tower. It just seemed bad taste to use your friends’ misfortune.

Then again, Niro didn’t much like the Circle most days. Preferring to paint or read in his quarters, and he _always_ approved of Anders escaping. In fact, after the last time when Anders was in solitary he had been instrumental in appealing to Gregoir. Whatever that meant. Half the apprentices seemed to think they were having an affair, the other half was split evenly between professional relationship and friends. Whatever it was, and Lilith solidly refuted the idea that they were intimately involved, simply by knowing Niro, it had gotten Anders out of solitary in one year, rather than two, and between Lilith, Karl, Jowan and Niro they had been able to smuggle Mr. Wiggums to the cells more often than not. If Cullen was on guard that day, it was always Lilith’s job. If she could fluster him enough to set the cat down when another Templar walked down, Cullen wouldn’t even notice.

Likewise, if it was Hadley was on duty, Karl could simply engage him in conversation while Jowan released the cat. Gregoir had been a toss-up, she remembered. Niro could utterly bamboozle most Templars, with his words of course, they’d feel the magic if he’d tried a sound, _disorient_. Gregoir was different. He could look the other way, or he could stand firm, and nobody, even Niro had any idea what it would be on any given day. One day, Niro and Karl had gone together, seen Gregoir, and he had actually opened the door for Karl to let the cat down. Other days, he glared until one of the mages ran off.

Anyway. Niro, Jowan, who really, _Jowan_ was the blood mage? And Anders were gone. Karl was under watch, _again_. And Lilith had resorted to praying in the Chapel.

That would have been bad enough if Keili hadn’t chosen that moment to appear. It’s not that Keili was a bad woman, Lilith mused, she was just…She was _misfortunate_. She bought into magic being evil. Watched in wide eyed fascination as the sisters sang the chant, and seemed on several occasions to be praying for her own death, either by the sword, or Tranquility, which was a death unlike any other. If the soul is gone, it shouldn’t be moving. Was Lilith’s general feeling. She felt a twinge of guilt. Owain and the others shouldn’t be killed for being Tranquil, but, was it a mercy? No emotions, no dreams, no wants, likes or dislikes, she’d heard stories about the Kirkwall Circle from a few mage transfers, if anything happened they would hurt the Tranquil first, and that wasn’t fair. Niro and Karl, and even Anders had tried for a time to make the apprentices more comfortable with the Tranquil, it either worked, or didn’t, at least nobody was outright mean.

“-Ilith? Lilith!”

She jolted, looking up at Keili who frowned at her.

“I’ve been talking to you for a few minutes now. Are you quite alright?”

Lilith frowned “I’m sorry Keili, I was thinking.”

Keili knelt next to her “Can I ask about what?”

Lilith grimaced “Tranquility. If it’s death, or not.”

Keili lit up “Oh, but it is the purest life! No magic, no pride. Just devotion to the Makers children!”

Lilith shook her head minutely “And I disagree. I just…I wanted to pray here today. Would you like to join me?”

Keili looked quite sad for a moment. “Yes, you’ve had a rough few weeks, haven’t you? We can pray here, quietly, and maybe the Maker or Andraste will hear you, like they haven’t heard me.”

Lilith nodded and bowed her head. The familiar words to the chant passing her lips silently. She hoped Niro and Anders were okay. She didn’t know how to feel about Jowan, but he was her friend, and she hoped he was okay as well. Maybe passing as a librarian, or a historian or something. Maybe a farmer, or even a teacher. Wherever her friends were, she hoped they were well, warm and fed, and not scared for the next day. Her mind wandered to Niro, the man who would have been her teacher had he not stopped taking apprentices. He was a Grey Warden. He was going to war, like the other mages. He wasn’t safe, and was likely scared of the fresh terror of a new day. But she could still hope he would learn quickly, survive, and be able to move on from the battle.

After what felt like minutes, Lilith looked up to see Keili gone, and a new batch of sisters entering the Chapel. She had been here longer than planned. She stood, brushed imagined dirt from her robes, and left. As she entered the hall she saw Niall and a few other senior enchanters walking to Irving’s office, again. They had been having almost daily meetings. Likely due to losing two powerful mages and a blood mage apprentice in one night.

“Curious?”

Lilith stifled a squeak and turned to the voice.

“You don’t need to be worried, Amell, We’re working it all out.”

“I’m sorry, Senior Enchanter, I’m just….Out of sorts, I’ll get out of your way.”

The man rattled out a laugh “Now now. Call me Uldred. The Circle is our family now isn’t it?”

Lilith blushed, embarrassed “I’m sorry, Sen-Uldred. You’re right. But I’m sure things will get better with you here to help them.”


	11. Tremble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Niro.
> 
> With an apology for taking this long!

[ ](http://s845.photobucket.com/user/dragons_chaotica/media/DA%20Screens-Reference/niroupdated.png.html)

 

After the naming of Dane, Alistair was utterly silent but for the times he was asked a direct question.

Niro had taken the time to chat lightly with Morrigan, though they were very different people and he found himself uncomfortable discussing anything but magic with her.

Thankfully, if there was one thing Morrigan knew, it was magic. Niro couldn’t stomach her views on most things, she seemed, cruel, in a way. But when it came to teaching him magic, while a touch impatient, she was a good teacher.

Currently they were camped about a days walk from Lothering, according to Morrigan, and they were sitting cross legged with their knees brushing together. Alistair had turned in early, and Niro and Morrigan had decided to get some practice in before Niro took to his own bedroll, and the Witch took first watch.

They sat, spines erect, with one of Niro’s hands outstretched, held out between both of Morrigans hands, but not touching. Her hands were held five inches away on both sides.

Niro was pretty sure this particular exercise had been invented by some lesser demon, as his arm and hand were trembling violently, simply from having it held out the way it was.

“Now, call ice to your palm.” She commanded.

Wincing, Niro tried to call ice in a slow drag as she’d taught him. The goal was to not hit either of her hands with ambient magic. She had admitted her casting was wild, but she was able to pull the fragments of spell from it. Her allies felt her magic flare around them, but barring getting a little warm with a possible fire spell, nothing would happen. Niro, apparently, pretty much called a small storm. Fragments of ice everywhere, the thing _next_ to his target got healed as well. Sure, the target always took the brunt, but the point was, he essentially exploded with magic rather than casting spells.

“Good, good. Almost there.” He murmured, then his hand trembled a bit too much and the moisture from the failure dampened Morrigans hands.

“Sorry.” He muttered, looking down.

“It was…Much better. Though. Tis pleasing to see you improve, no matter how slowly.”

Niro sighed. “Let’s pick it up tomorrow morning.”

Morrigan nodded, businesslike, and stood to walk to the edge of camp, wiping her hands on her skirt.

Niro stood and wiped his hands on his leggings and walked morosely back to his tent. Well, he and Alistairs tent. They’d managed to get one, Morrigan had her own.

“Magic class went well, I hope?” The human muttered drowsily when the elf entered.

“No. Not really.” Niro murmured, crawling into his own bedroll. “I can’t get the magic to stay still. It’s wasting mana, it’s weakening my spells, and also throwing the world around me into disarray. On top of which my face hurts, my arms are weak, and I have this strange headache like someone’s pumping lightning up my spine!” He growled.

He flopped down face first into a quite flat pillow. “I’m sorry.” He continued softly “I’m just so angry.”

Sighing, Alistair pushed himself up. “Sit.”

Suspicious, but ultimately trusting, Niro sat.

Alistair cleared his throat “Look, I, I know we haven’t exactly known each other long. But we need to work together, and I think we could be friends. And friends help each other with their problems, and I..Well, I have an idea, but you probably won’t like it.”

“I dislike being useless or dangerous to my allies more than pretty much everything, so spill.”

Alistair shifted so he was sitting cross legged and held out both of his hands. “I get what Morrigan is trying to do. But she can’t show you how it feels to get it right so you can work for it.”

Niro furrowed his brow and thrust his hand between Alistairs, reassuming the position he had held just moments ago. “But you’re no mage, you can’t either. What is this going to do?”

The human cleared his throat “I’m a Templar though. I can’t do much, but I might be able to nullify magic around my hands, so you’ll be forced to only feel the magic you call. Maybe it’ll help you feel how it’s supposed to?” He looked sheepish.

Niro sighed and looked up “Fine, I’ll try. But if it doesn’t do anything I’m going to bed.”

“I’d expect no less.’

Niro took a deep breath and began the slow process again. Trying to feel the way his magic moved. Slowly, the ice curled into his palm, and as usual he felt is slipping away, but rather than the clash of magic he felt when he lost control with Morrigan, it felt like it disappeared. He looked up startled at Alistair, who had his eyes closed. He was breathing slowly and deeply, obviously concentrating. Without the sudden jolt of magic on magic, Niro brightened, pushing and pulling his spell in the gap provided until he could feel exactly where his spell started and stopped, well within the confines of their hands.

Eventually the spell did go haywire, but not before Niro had grasped what he needed.

“Did..Did it help?”

Niro lunged at the human, crashing solidly into him and knocking him backwards. Before Alistair could even shout in surprise, the elf, now perched on his stomach, had engulfed him in a fierce hug.

“Thank you thank you thank you!”

Alistair gingerly rubbed a hand up the elfs back. “It was no trouble. You’re welcome?” He asked confusedly. The elf seemed happy, but he was trembling violently.

The reason became apparent when Niro sat back up and slid off the human, eyes wide, face flushed in excitement. He was so happy it didn’t seem he could contain himself.

Alistair barked out a laugh and reached out to rub his hands brusquely up and down the elfs arms. Grinning all the while. “Yeah, you did it.”

He might have said it just to watch the elf glow a bit brighter, a delighted laugh falling from his lips.

“I did it. You helped me do it!” He spoke as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “That means I can do it again!”

“Not tonight.”

The elf looked at him questioningly.

“You need sleep so you can try it more tomorrow night. Sleepy elves don’t do well in magic class.”

In hindsight, Niro must have been very tired, because that was all it took to make him curl into his bedroll and crash within minutes.


	12. Lothering Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm sorry this is late and bad. But I needed to hammer something out here or it wasn't going to happen.

“Look, we should discuss something.”

 

Alistair hadn’t been very talkative after that night in the tent. Sure, he always had a kind word for the elf, but still. But several hours later he wanted to talk? Okay.

Niro looked up “Of co-“

 

“Oh, tired of contemplating your navel?”

Niro’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft, nearly inaudible sigh sliding out. He didn’t even keep track of the full conversation, Alistair, still hurting, snapped back, Morrigan got more terrible.

 

“Leave him alone Morrigan.” He finally snapped.

 

“But how can I? He is just standing there, eyes like a brainless calf.” She cooed mockingly.

 

“And there you stand, hissing like a poisonous bitch, yet I haven’t commented before now.”

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me. Play nice.” Niro stated, an air of finality in his voice. Morrigan looked defiant, angry even. But she held her tongue. For some reason both of these people, infinitely more experienced than him, were taking his orders. He would use it as long as he was able to keep the peace.

“Ehem. Anyway.” Alistair picked up “We need a plan of action. The treaties, have you thought of how to use them?”

Niro thought for a second, he had been thinking on it, but he also hadn’t. “I’ve thought about it, but I’ve also not…Thought, about it.”

“Ah. Well, you know we need to approach the Dalish, the mages, and the dwarves. I also think we should stop by Redcliffe, Arl Eamon could help us.”

 

Niro tilted his head, eyes scanning the sky “Where’s Loghain?”

 

“Well….We could go to Denerim, but I don’t think we’d just be allowed to walk around.”

Morrigan scoffed and opened her mouth. Closing her mouth with an audible click when she saw the look Niro fixed her with. Alistair opened his mouth, to goad her no doubt, but instead the aborted noise he released sounded like a thin yawn as he hastened to kill his statement under the glare the elf was now fixing him with.

Just because he liked Alistair more than Morrigan didn’t mean he got to be an asshole anymore than she did. That would be rude.

 

After an awkward silence in which Alistair and Morrigan both blushed like chastised children, Alistair found words again. “Any ideas on where to go?”

Niro nodded “Well, not the Circle.”

“What! We need to-“

“I meant more not right now. Like...Maybe after one of the other ones?”

Morrigan smiled slyly “Our wise leader, frightened of his former home.” She used the same tone as her earlier brainless calf statement. Niro glared. She didn’t care this time.

 

“What could you have possibly done, I wonder. Tis intriguing to say the least.”

 

“Sooo?”

 

Niro looked up, face burning, at two humans looking at him. At least Alistair just looked curious. Morrigan was reminding him of a Templar grilling an apprentice for an admission.

 

“I broke into the Phylactery chamber, helped a blood mage retrieve his phylactery, and break it. I then May have aided in his escape in as small a way as I could. The Knight Commander wanted me made Tranquil. So I’d like to let him calm down.”

 

Alistair blinked “You helped a _blood mage_ escape?” His voice was clipped, and the way his eyes narrowed really wasn’t a look Niro ever wanted directed at him.

 

Morrigan was sniggering behind her hand.

 

“Yes. I’d also do it again.”

“A _blood mage_!”

Niro winced at the tone, but stood his ground. “Look, you can be pissed all you want, but we need to go into Lothering, and get information. Then I’ll decide where to go. Unless I’m no longer suited to lead?”

Morrigan shook her head, the remnants of laughter still on her face. It made her prettier, Niro noticed. She should smile more, not the cold smirk, but an actually happy smile.

“On the contrary, I feel _much_ better about this.” She declared

Alistair nodded stiffly.

Well, that dynamic changed quickly.

By the time they actually reached the town proper, Niro had gotten to test his burgeoning control on some bandits.

He didn’t want to think about Alistairs face when Niro had chosen to end the threat there. After he and Morrigan had finished taking everything of use from the corpses, Dane had bounded up with a letter. Luckily, it was on high class paper and the drool hadn’t ruined it.

 

A few ear scratches later Dane even showed him the corpse. Niro’s eyes swam, just as they did by the bandits. As it happened, killing people wasn’t his thing, who knew?

 

Walking into town covered in blood didn’t actually seem to set of anybody’s warning bells. In fact, few people even noticed.

 

“You there!”

Niro swung his head to the side to see a Templar in full plate.

“If you’re looking for shelter, you’ll not find it here.”

Nodding in agreement Niro picked on ahead. “Gods, his _voice_.” He murmured.

 

Morrigan let out another girlish giggle “Agreed.”

 

“What about it?” Alistair asked in confusion “Was it threatening?”

 

Morrigan gave him a look through slanted eyes “In a way. But not to us, and not now.”

 

Honestly, it was still teasing, but considering she was at least keeping it at acceptable levels Niro allowed himself a snicker.

He cut himself off when he saw two men and a woman standing by the gate of the Chantry though. All in plate armor.

He’d cross that bridge when he got to it. He could see a board behind them, and he wanted to see what it was. As it was, there was a sister scolding what appeared to be a shopkeeper…Or a merchant…If Niro was being honest with himself he was still a bit fuzzy on most things not plants and magic and history. Was Osen a Bard or a minstrel again?

“You there, talk some sense into this man!”

Startling out of his reverie he looked up only to see the sister staring at him. Resisting the urge to look behind him he turned to the merchant (shopkeeper? He has a wagon. That’s a shop right?) “Ser, I’m sure we could find an equitable solution for everybody.” He said smoothly in his Enchanter voice. The one he’d used to break up disputes in the circle.

 

And when did that happen? Since when was he a muddled, confused elf and not the indomitable, eccentric Enchanter? Since when did he need to try to be the Enchanter? He wanted that Niro back.

 

Evidently the …Salesperson had agreed to his terms. As Morrigan was steering him away, hissing something about sleeping later, she was being pretty derisive about it.

 

When Niro looked up, he saw the two men had wandered off from their position by the board. But the woman was still there.

 

Maybe that board did have something interesting on it. He thought, as he stepped closer.


	13. Lothering Tales Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is really short and really late and also shitty. I'm so sorry! 
> 
> Two of our intrepid heroes meet. And two more are hidden away in the Tavern.

“Pardon” Niro demurred, approaching the woman, her face turned to some noise within the Chantry gates. He could hear Morrigan hissing something.

 

“Ah, the Chanters Board is what you were looking at?” Alistair piped up, his voice holding some of the levity it hadn’t in the last hour or so. “Why didn’t you say?”

“Because I’ve never seen one.” Niro admitted as the woman turned to face him “I had no idea what it was even called.”

“No Chanters Board by you then, friend?” The woman spoke, her voice low and melodious.

‘Spirits she is lovely.’ Niro thought, taking in the sharp jaw and soft mouth below mischievous eyes. “No board. Just a small chapel.” He explained.

The woman nodded slowly “I’ve never heard much of the Circle.”

The sharp noise of ringing metal still surprised him. But Alistair revealing three inches of sword in a clearly defensive maneuver was…heartening. Perhaps his sympathy for blood mages hadn’t quite ruined everything.

The womans had flew to the haft of her battleaxe even as her off hand came out in a placating gesture. “I was just commenting on his staff. No need for us to fight, Ser.” She soothed, removing her hand from the haft of the axe. She extended her arm to shake, and after a moment Alistair took it.

Niro watched this in silence. Alistair had drawn a weapon for him, at least a little, and now actively was making peace with this warrior. He had a lot to learn about the outside world.

“Svera.” The woman said, shaking the other warriors hand.

“Alistair.” The man retuned, dropping the other gauntlet from his grip. “These are my companions, if you were unaware.”

Svera narrowed her eyes at the party. “Two mages and a dog. Your life sounds interesting.”

Morrigan, mostly silent until now groaned “We are entirely behind our schedule. We _cannot_ linger here, you _do_ know that?” She said sharply.

Niro nodded slowly. “I am Niro, the hound is Dane, and the woman is-“

“Capable of introducing herself.” Morigan stated primly, derision still clear in the set of her mouth. “If there are to be introductions, I, am Morrigan. And we must be off.”

Niro inclined his head and stepped back, feeling the rough ground shift under his feet as he turned the ankle to change direction.

“Wait!” The woman burst out “I…We could use some extra hands. Me and my companions are short on coin, you see. So we took the Board requests. We’d be happy to share the rewards if you help. We came here to speak to a knight in our benefactors employ. But he’s busy. So we’ll be off soon, we just….Needed coin to restock.”

Morrigans mouth pinched, but even Niro could see she was thinking about it. Coin was useful. Even if it was just a little. The woman had even skinned a few rabbits on the way for trade.

“You know, it’s not a bad offer.” Alistair mentioned offhandedly, looking down to the elf with a half smile. Niro was happy he seemed to be getting over the whole ‘blood mage sympathizer’ jolt.

Niro rolled the words about for a moment before responding. “What help do you need?”

“Poison. Fighters. If one of you knows any healing I’d sing a verse of the Chant.”

Morrigan sighed “I know poison. You know healing” She said, gesturing at Niro “And _you_ …Are not useless in a fight.” She begrudgingly added to Alistair. “And we do need the coin.”

The woman clapped her hands together once, in a dull cacophony of metal, cringing at the scraping clang. “That’s excellent. Dairren and Roland are at the tavern. I’d wanted a moment to try and see what was going on in the courtyard.”

Niro tilted his head, all he could hear was a man yelling. Clearly not taking the Darkspawn threat well. Niro didn’t blame him.

“To the taven then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this was late. And short. And awful.


	14. Lothering Tales Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana joins our heroes, they very nearly meet Roland and Dairren, and Niro suffers through emotions, new fighting techniques, and Morrigan's attempted help. Or insults. He's still not sure which be he's choosing to take it as a sign she's truly a nice woman. Svera doesn't know who she just asked for help, but they seem pretty entertaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unforgivably late. But fear not, this work isn't forgotten, and I'm making plans to edit earlier chapters so this doesn't read like a steaming pile of garbage.

It didn’t take Niro long to learn he was feeling vaguely _jealous._ But then his feelings for the warrior were confusing at the best of times, even if he’d wanted to shrug them off, he couldn’t quite do it. As it was, he delighted in being close to Alistair, while also dreading it. He always felt sick when they got too close, and he wasn’t sure if it was nerves or something worse. Of course, Niro had been sick since the joining. He’d been sick since they left the tower.

 

Trouble focusing, splitting headaches, lack of appetite. He’d had good days, but now even with everything so __bright__  he felt ill. After the Joining it seemed like the world was just waiting for him to slip and the successful Joining would be reverted and he’d just die. It wasn’t particularly a great way to live life.

 

But yes. The _ _jealousy__. It wasn’t as if Alistair was __his__. It wasn’t as if they had a __relationship,__  beyond that of tentative maybe friends who flirted sometimes. Well, __Niro__  flirted. He __thought__  Alistair flirted. But whenever Morrigan taunted him he acted like that was ridiculous, so who knew.

 

But still, Alistair walking next to the pretty warrior woman chatting amicably as if they’d known each other for years made his stomach turn.

 

“ _ _Someone__ , is looking a little lost.” Morrigan chided from next to him.

 

“This is the biggest human settlement I’ve ever been to. I’m naturally off balance.” He retorted, his accent thicker with his tiredness and stress. And what a thing to be stressed about. A man you barely know, maybe, eventually, liking a pretty girl. Life outside the Tower was __stupid.__  

 

“Oh” Morrigan scoffed “Being coy, are we?”

 

“I dunno, are we.”

 

Morrigan looked at him, golden eyes torn between mirth and irritation. “Your accent isn’t the only Orlesian thing about you. You excel at answering questions vaguely, or with another question.”

 

Niro snorted, but shied away a little. He was Fereldan. His voice liked to try and contradict that, and he hated it being pointed out. But Morrigan wasn’t Alistair. There would be no apologies, o attempts to change her behavior for something so trite. His weird position an leader didn’t go that far.

 

“I have a wonder, Alistair., if you’ll indulge me” Morrigan called as they reached the end of the bridge.

 

“Do I have a choice?” The man said in faint exasperation, turning from their new companion.

 

“Of the two of you that remain, are you not the senior Grey warden here? I find it curious that you allow another to lead, while you follow.”

 

Spirits. Was she trying to __help__? Niro looked at her, confused, then to Svera, who caught his eye looking just as baffled.

 

“You find that curious, do you?”

 

“In fact, you defer to a new recruit. Is this a policy of the Grey Wardens? Or simply a __personal__ one?”

 

Gods, Maker, Spirits and damnation, this was all some prolonged sex joke. She was trying to help and in all the wrong ways. Niro, in one blinding moment, remembered that Morrigan grew up in a swamp, that she wasn’t always a total bitch on purpose, and that this was very touching, and evidenced that she was a romantic, decent woman deep down but this was trailing deep into mortifying.

 

“Alistair you do not need to answer that.”

 

The man had apparently either missed the stressed word, missed the entire conversation, missed his warning, or was either uncaring of the petty joke, or was just lacking his usual wit. Because he just plunged right on.

 

“What do you want to hear? That I prefer to follow? I do.”

 

“You sound so very defensive.”

 

“Couldn’t you just crawl into a bush somewhere and die? That would be great, thanks.”

 

As Alistair turned back around to continue Morrigan smirked “Did you hear, Warden? He prefers passivity.”

 

Niro dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

 

“Oh, was that…Not what you wanted to hear, because trust me you’re doing a fantastic job leading.” Alistair assured, swinging back around looking sheepish.

 

Svera began to chuckle, then laugh, bending over and touching her stomach through the plate. After a bit the charming laughter obtained an infrequent snort and it took a moment for the woman to right herself.

 

“I…What was funny?” Alistair asked, baffled.

 

Dane sat down by Niro’s foot, tongue lolling, happy.

 

Morrigan snorted.

And Niro. Niro was quite red in the face, and took some calming breaths to gather enough courage to put his hands down. He cleared his throat loudly “If we are all done behaving like children, we have some quests to help in.”

 

Svera looked between the three of them, and the war dog leaning on the slight elf, and nodded, a flush still on her face as she looked over the group with new eyes. Niro was stupidly pleased to note she walked an extra step away from Alistair. He was crazy. He was going to die if this stupid crush ever got out. He had no reason or right to want control over Alistair’s space. He’d work on that.

 

“Here’s the tavern.” Svera announced, a bit awkwardly in the last few feet of strained silence. She opened the door and held it for them to walk in. Niro stopped to nod his thanks.

 

“Well, look here, men. I think we’ve just been blessed!”

 

“Didn’t we spend all morning asking about an elf matching this description?”

 

Alistair shifted a bit in front of him and Niro shouldered his way into the open area in front of him. Perhaps if he could see over the mans shoulder it would have been cute. As it were, it was more like a shield wall suddenly materializing in front of him.

 

“Gentleman, surely there’s no need for trouble!” A lilting Orlesian voice called as a woman stepped up to the soldiers. “Surely, these are simply more travelers who-”

 

Honestly, Niro was just happy to find an Orlesian who didn’t fit the stereotype. She was dressed in Chantry robes, with red hair. Pretty. Why was everybody so __pretty__  outside the tower? The lighting perhaps?

 

“Sister, they want a fight. They won’t listen.”

 

And that’s how Niro learned that if he was fighting in close quarters he could just touch a man and pump him full of electricity.

 

“Dear Maker!” A pale haired man said as he sheathed his sword and Niro let go of a slightly crispy enemy.

 

“Makers breath, is he __alive__?” Alistair said, walking over to the mage and his fallen adversary. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t care, but he smells awful now and I’m the one who’s going to carry him out if he’s dead.”

 

The man groaned and rolled over. “I can’t feel my fingers.”

 

“I was trying to kill you.” Niro stated reasonably “Your armor was a really good conductor. So it’s kind of shocking you’re alive really.”

 

Morrigan and Svera snorted.

A red haired man walked over to Svera and seemed to engage in quick conversation as the pale haired man did the same.

 

The sister looked from the crispy man on the floor to the puzzled band of travelers, and the corpses of the mans attache. “Good, they’ve learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting now.”

 

Alistair tilted his head and weakly gestured to the corpses, the sister adamantly ignored him.

 

Niro cleared his throat “There’s nobody left to fight. This last one is on his last legs. Literally. If he loses these, he won’t move. And as my companion said, we want him to move. The electrocution appears to have weakened his-”

 

A gauntlet closed firmly but surprisingly gently over his face.

 

“We really don’t need to hear how that worked. Uh, shoo?” Alistair muttered, turning the last of his statement to the man who struggled to his feet.

 

“Got it, I’m going.”

 

“Tell Loghain he’ll need to do much better than this.”

 

“Will do.”

 

The entire tavern was silent for a moment before Alistair and the two new men by Svera began to drag the corpses out.

 

“Well, that was something.” The sister said as the bards started playing again and the patrons returned to their conversation.

 

“Those men said you were Grey Wardens when they were asking. Are you?”

 

Niro looked around the tavern, and decided very few people would try something now. “Yes.”

 

“Excellent, you’ll need all the help you can get. I’m coming along.”

 

He didn’t follow, “What?”

 

“I’m coming with you to fight the Blight! I received a vision from the Maker and he wants me to go with you.”

 

“So, you hear voices?”

 

“You’re being purposefully obtuse.”

 

Niro looked at her oddly. “I’m really not. But I can use the help.” He extended his hand “I’m Niro.”

 

The woman grinned “I’m Leliana, a Lay Sister of the Chantry. And I’m happy to be aboard.”

 

It wasn’t bad. He just…wouldn’t sleep around her. Or maybe the vision was harmless. Yeah. Today was a bad day.

 

“Your new friend helping us along?” a woman's voice came from behind him. Turning he found Svera looking over the room.

 

“Yes.” He answered after a moment, and Leliana didn’t object so he was apparently still leader. “I need to send Alistair to the Chantry to deliver something we found. Morrigan.” He paused waving the woman over “You’re on poison.”

 

“The merchant over there wants some help with poison.” Svera explained “Shouldn’t be too hard, but I’m not a dab hand at it.”

 

Morrigan fixed her with a look that Niro didn’t want to decipher. “I’ll aid with healing. Leliana and Dane will help you with fighting for now, and Alistair will join you once he returns. As will Morrigan and I if we finish quickly.”

 

Svera beamed. “Excellent! Also, I do have another member of our party for you to meet. Let me grab her, and we’ll do introductions and assignation.”

 

Niro, Leliana and Dane exited the building. Niro with a halfhearted wave to Morrigan as she talked ingredients with the merchant.

 

They joined the two new men outside, and Alistair who looked happy in their company.

 

“Good! Are we all clear?” He started, trailing off as the Sister stood by the mage “Ah, the Sister, miss?”

 

“Leliana. And I’m a Lay Sister.” She added reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m coming along.”

 

Alistair raised his eyebrows as he looked at Niro over her head. The elf nodded.

 

“Welcome…to the team, I guess.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey....I'm sorry I'm doing the thing. It leads into Inqusition several stories from now? Let me know if you have questions or suggestions, yeah? New computer, new keyboard and no beta, I'm so sorry friends.


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